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Ladies First ! 

% 

A NOVEL 


BY 

irs. DOMINIQUE FRANCOIS VERDENAL 

D 



NEW YORK 

THE HOME PUBLISHING COMPANY 

3 EAST FOURTEENTH STREET 


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SHORTLY TO APPEAR 


Her Senator 


A New and Exciting Novel 


BY 

ARCHieALD GLAVERING GUNTER, 

AUTHOR OF 

“ Mr. Barnes of New York,” “ Mr. Potter of 
Texas,” “That Frenchman,” “Miss Nobody 
of Nowhere,” “A Princess of Paris,” 

Etc., Etc. 

THE HOME PUBLISHING COMPANY, 

3 East 14th St., New York. 


“Ladies First!” 


S IRovel 



Mrs. Dominique Francois Verdenal 



NEW YORK 

THE HOME PUBLISHING COMPANY 




Copyright, 1895, 

By A. C. GUNTER. 

All rights reserved. 


The Winthrop Press, 

32-34 Lafayette Place, New York. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

Chapter 1 .— Hail Fellows ! - - - 5 

“ II. — “Figures Don’t Lie,” - - 18 

“ III. — A Love Ledge, - - -26 

“ IV. — Tricksie Meets an Old 

Friend, - - - 41 

“ V. — The Bear Dance on Peerless, 53 

“ VI. — The Pet of Gold Gulch, - 68 

“ VII. — The Boss Claim, - - - 80 

“ VIIL — Tattie’s Farewell, - - 96 

“ IX. — Kelvyn’s Inheritance, - - 107 

“ X. — Mrs. Roy H. Banatyne 

Second, - - - - 119 

“ XL — Within Convent Walls, - 130 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

Chapter XII. — The Past’s Buried Secrets, 144 
“ XIII. — Lutner Turns Honest 

Miner, - - - - 157 

XIV. — In Search of a Father, - 162 

“ XV. — Le Marquis de Deauville, - 172 

XVI. — Captain Jim’s Worry, - - 189 

“ XVII. — Tricksie’s Hornet’s Nest, - 193 

XVIII. — The Slime of the Serpent, - 202 
‘‘ XIX. — Read That! _ - _ 218 

** XX. — True Love as Usual Strikes 

a Snag, - _ . _ 244 

XXL — Home Confidences, - - 255 

“ XXII. — The Slaughter of “ Last 

Hope,” - - . _ 262 

XXIII. — ^‘Send for ‘Captain Jim,’ ” - 276 
“ XXIV.— “Is That You, Sweetness,” - 284 
“ XXV. — Squaring Accounts, - - 292 


‘^LADIES FIRST!” 

CHAPTER I. 

HAIL fellows! 

“ Now this is a magnificent scheme. If I suc- 
ceed it will put a cool million to my credit,” solilo- 
quized Roy Banatyne, as he stroked his blond 
beard with a self-satisfied air and seemed to scent 
a fortune in the rich specimens of ore as they lay 
before him on his office desk, which ores had 
accompanied a lengthy document he had just 
read, re-reading those lines that pleased his imag- 
ination most, and which excited his speculative 
tendency to the greatest degree of delightful 
enthusiastic anticipation. 

He had that disposition to risk, which, when 
given unbridled license, rushed headlong to finan- 
cial ruin or victory, with the recklessness of the 
hounds and riders in at the death; or like the 
racer that dashes down the home stretch with 
dilated nostrils and strained tendons, regardless 
of neck or limb, spurred, not only by his rider, 
but also by the pleasurable effort to win or die. 
He was gifted with that dauntless nerve, which, 
whether victory or ruin was the result of a specu- 
lative stroke, could enjoy the one or watch the 
death throes of the other with a placid smile. 


6 


LADIES FIRST. 


( ( 


Roy Banatyne was a racer after money ; not 
that he was mercenary — quite the contrary ; 
although a multi-millionaire he was wholly indif- 
ferent to the luxuries with which money could 
surround him. But it was exhilarating sport for 
him to battle with the gales of fortune in his 
endeavor to save his bark from wreckage in that 
surging, plunging sea of finances. This peculiar 
species of gambling, copiously tinctured with its 
moral guilt, fascinated him. He did not pretend 
to pose as a model hero, and in an emergency, 
when the stock market was not going his way, 
would use a little strategy that by the scrupulous 
would not be considered quite au fait. 

To win his point he was willing to surrender 
his hopes of Heaven for a p.robable certainty of 
the other place, thinking that others had the 
privilege to do the same, if their judgments and 
consciences so prompted In the excitement of 
money getting, when he forgot the strictest rules 
of upright principle, it was more due to heedless- 
ness in the headlong race than from deliberate, 
dishonorable intent. To take a trick at any risk 
or to give a blow beneath the belt in his wrought 
up state, he would not have scrupled, neither 
would such a return from his adversary have sur- 
prised or chagrined Roy H. Banatyne. 

If a friend lost by his stock manipulations he 
was often ready to return the sum to the loser 
with open-handed generosity. He was a bold, 
daring speculator. - Go in on a possibility, whoop 
her up to a certainty, and let the devil catch the 
hindmost,'’ was his oft-repeated advice, .and 


“ LADIES FIRST.” 


7 


although he used phrases Avhich might be con- 
strued against his integrity, he did not mean them 
in their common acceptation, but as a sort of 
throw-down-the-gauntlet challenge to all adver- 
saries to enter the arena of stock gambling and 
play battledore and shuttlecock with their for- 
tunes, and see who would win the day and conse- 
quently the money. 

Whether his fearless reliance on luck, or his 
generosity, enlisted that invisible protection given 
to birds, flowers and things which exist and are 
cared for with no thought of theirs for the dreaded 
“ rainy day,” be it said that so far everything had 
gone his way, and that he had been successful far 
beyond his most sanguine expectations. 

Banatyne's score in years was thirty-five. A 
handsome man of decided blonde type, Scotch 
born, but no trace of an accent heralded his native 
country. A man of the world fully equipped with 
all the savoir faire, that such a position implies — 
belonged to all the clubs, and took every inch of 
enjoyment out of life that did not interfere with 
his speculative tendency, for that was the very 
oxygen he breathed, to which no other pleasure 
could be compared. 

It was in the sixties, that era when California, 
the Banner State of gold-producing properties, 
electrified the world. When she, though but an 
infant in years, was a veteran in importance. 
When the financial powers of both the Eastern and 
the Western hemispheres stood on tip-toe, fear- 
ful that so vast a gold production from the, until 
then, unknown section, would revolutionize com- 


8 


LADIES FIRST. 


( i 


merce, paralyze the known pulses of finances and 
circumvent methods that would be felt from the 
globe’s center to its circumference. 

Like a powerful magnet, she attracted good, bad 
and indifferent — particularly the adventuresome — 
from all parts of the universe. They were reck- 
less men, as far as making and losing money was 
concerned. Many of them were generous men 
and would help a friend to the extent of a good 
sized fortune without as much security as the 
scratch of a pen. Such a man was James R. 
Keene, who was the recognized Free Lance of the 
California Street Stock Exchange. A natural 
born speculator, who frequently ventured his all 
to win fortune’s favor. 

Such a man was J. W. Gashwiler, who was 
one of the most successful and popular of mine 
speculators on the Pacific Coast. His purse strings 
were loosened to every sycophant who called him 
friend. And contemporary were such men as 
William C. Ralston, a prince of generosity and 
debonair leader in time of prosperity, but lacking 
endurance in the face of adversity. 

William Sharon, whose cool head and practical 
sense saw possibilities and improved them ; and 
hosts of others identified with the mining interests 
of the Pacific Coast, who became known the world 
over as representatives of the new field and a new 
era ; and such a man was Roy Banatyne, the dare- 
devil of a manipulator, as far as generosity was 
concerned ; but there the likeness stopped, for the 
latter was built upon a very different plan,inasmuch 
as he had little crooked nook's, and unexpected 


“ LADIES FIRST.” 


9 


corners, that the honor of the former gentlemen 
would never have tolerated for a moment in their 
own business methods. 

Money was made easily, was lost easily, given 
freely. It was not then the hoarded commodity in 
California that it is to-day. It changed hands with 
the rapidity of lightning. A Monte Carlo spirit 
permeated the atmosphere. John W. Mackay and 
James G. Fair were miners in flannel shirts and 
trousers tucked into cowhide boots, uncovering 
the Great Bonanza on the Comstock. 

John P. Jones was digging gold in the mountains 
of Trinity even while indulging in politics as a 
laxative. Alvinza Hayward was sinking deep 
shafts in the mother lode in Amador and working 
gold quartz successfully. 

It was that feverishly alert period when the 
spirit of wild speculation was at white heat. The 
Stock Exchange was the center of eager, excitea, 
almost turbulent crowds, who elbowed each other 
aside in their frantic endeavors to tempt Fortune’s 
smiles. The mechanic left his work which paid 
him a pittance comparatively, to risk his savings in 
the whirlpool ; the merchant forgot his legitimate 
ventures in the race for immediate gain. The 
lawyer threw aside his brief, the doctor neglected 
his patients — professional and working men 
crowded brokers’ offices and watched with eager 
eyes and flying pulse the market’s fitful fluctua- 
tions. Servants of the household, following the 
examples openly set by their mistresses, would put 
up their wages as margins in mining stock and 
perhaps win a fortune in the lottery of California 


LADIES FIRST. 


Street or perhaps otherwise, which was mor6 
frequently the case. Whether loss or gain resulted 
it was taken good-naturedly. The cry was, “ Hur- 
rah for the next winner or loser !” 

The air was surcharged with this chance spirit 
to risk. Many bold operators had laid the foun- 
dation stones of their millions, others had not the 
courage to count their losses. When the market 
was “booming” the wife would buy a few four 
hundred dollar dresses, to find by the time that 
they were finished she could not afford a calico ; 
or would invest in carriage and horses, and at the 
end of a week the sheriff or his deputy might 
stand at the head of the team and she would be 
obliged to walk home from her calling or shopping 
expedition, which she did without the least cha- 
grin, knowing from experience that if it was the 
“ down ” to-day the “ up ” would be to-morrow ; 
and so this nerve-straining, brain-racking excite- 
ment held sway in San Francisco, the “ups ” and 
“ downs ” chasing each other in such rapid succes- 
sion, that one scarcely knew from day to day 
whether fickle fortune would count him millionaire 
or pauper ; and by a great many old-timers they are 
still considered “The Palmy Days of California.’ 

Now that the air was rife for it, Roy Banatyne 
was about to float another mine ; he was going to 
place upon* the market a new property, the report 
of which, with maps, plans and diagrams, he had 
just received from his expert with accompanying 
ore specimens, “not selected,” but “taken care- 
lessly ” from the dump among “ thousands like 
them or better.” 


LADIES FIRST. 


II 


(t 


He walked the floor of his office with a nervous 
alert step, his motion accelerating his thoughts, 
until they disdained concealment. 

“ And why not succeed ? ” he said. '' All my 
efforts have been successful so far, and this prop- 
erty promises better than anything I have ever 
taken hgld of. Here’s a report sent by my expert, 
saying that it is almost as good as the Bonanza on 
the Comstock ; the ledge crops out boldly, and 
the samples assay up in the thousands. Every- 
thing is in its favor. No time to be lost after 
reading such a report. A gold mine like this is a 
fortune, not only for myself, but for all my friends. 
Failure ? Humph ! It isn’t in the cards. 

“ But suppose the ledge pitches out or 
* pinches,’ ” he went on, his thoughts moving at a 
more rapid speed, “ and the mine doesn’t pan out 
well, my syndicate is composed of men who can 
well afford to lose the money, and we will come 
out of the financial conflict like scarred warriors 
ready to buckle on our armor and try another 
deal,” and a broad smile of keen enjoyment at the 
anticipated pleasure of the coming combat lighted 
up the face of this warrior, who was a command- 
ing general in the struggle in which all nations 
take part : to gain the largest amount of booty in 
the great universal war for Pelf! Pelf! 

“ So Banatyne, old boy,” he continued, voicing 
his thoughts to space, his nerves worked up to a 
high pitch of excitement, “ prepare for a call upon 
your reserved fund of ‘ bull ’ talk, and to show as 
goodly a quantity of the richest specimens of ore 
that have ever been seen in this or any other 


12 


LADIES FIRST. 


< ( 


world.” And he sank into a large office chair, 
still holding the report from “ my expert ” in his 
hand, for Banatyne, while his thoughts ran away 
with him, had unconsciously walked a great dis- 
tance although in a small space. 

As he turned in his chair his office door opened. 

“ Hello, Halstead,” he said with a cheery, hos- 
pitable tone in his voice: ‘‘ Walk right in if you 
want to read a report on a regular pot boiler,” 
offering for his friend’s perusal the document that 
he had just read. 

I suppose it’ll make my eyes dance and see 
stars ior the rest of my natural life,” replied Hal- 
stead. 

Well, rather,” returned Banatyne with a self- 
assured air accompanied by a satisfied smile, which 
made Halstead’s heart double its throbs, and his 
pulse beat at a decidedly increased speed, for he 
was one of Banatyne’s most ardent followers and 
devoted friends, and he foresaw in his pleased 
expression that in the coming deal the daring 
mine promoter intended to do himself full justice, 
and Halstead was going to keep abreast of him 
in the conflict. 

Oh, no, I guess not,” remarked Haistead, 
which was a jolly contradiction of that which he 
considered a positive fact, and he chose to empha- 
size it by the derisive use of the negative. “ We’ll 
go in on a shoe string and come out with a tan 
yard this time sure, eh, Roy, old boy ? ” and he 
slapped Banatyne on the back in true good fellow- 
ship style. 

“ Read the report,” was Banatyne’s irrelevant 


LADIES FIRST. 


^3 


(( 

answer, pointing to the paper, and anxious to hear 
Halstead’s concurring suggestions and spicy com- 
ments, always ready to. enjoy another’s thoughts 
when they ran in the same channel as his own. 

“ Cold nosed as a fish, of course,” said Halstead 
disdainfully, as he gave the document a casual 
glance, his hopeful nature predicting the utter 
impossibility of any man, no matter how expert, 
fixing an adequate value upon that particular min- 
ing property. 

Nat Halstead was a fine looking, fair haired 
man, with a singularly impressive face, for such a 
hayseed guilelessness overspread his countenance, 
had Diogenes’ search-light, in that ever memor- 
able hunt for an honest man, cast its rays upon 
Nat, he would have unhesitatingly been picked 
out as the rara avis to meet all the combined 
requirements. His sunny, devil-may-care smile, 
however, at times somewhat marred his saintly 
expression, for although it lighted up a face beam- 
ing with good nature, cordiality, and generosity, 
it also revealed his daring, reckless spirit for 
speculation, which cropped out in every feature, 
in every gesture. 

An enthusiastic admirer of the gentler sex, he 
fell like a stricken deer at the first glance of a 
bright eye, but if there is truth in the saying. 
There is safety in numbers,” he was the surest 
bachelor of his time. He was in love with all 
the ladies, which wholesale infatuation debarred 
him most effectually from ever entering the list 
of Benedicts. No mining deal was of sufficient 
importance in his opinion to interfere with his 


14 


‘‘ LADIES FIRST.” 


gallantry. It was with him “ the ladies first and 
all the time, God bless ’em !” 

Just as he was in the achof picking up the all- 
important report, his eye fell upon a neglected 
little note still sealed in its pink-tinted envelope. 
All of his gallantry rushed upon him like an over- 
whelming torrent. He took it up with tenderest 
solicitude, and asked in plaintive tone, his eyes 
gazing fondly upon the feminine superscription : 

How could you, Roy ? From Tricksie?” 

“ Yes, from Tricksie,” answered Banatyne, tak- 
ing the note from Halstead’s loving, lingering 
grasp, after the latter had smoothed its perfumed 
surface, as it contact with anything so decidedly 
effeminate did his very soul good. Banatyne 
placed it, still unsealed, in his pocket, for though 
at times his hands could be tied by a single hair 
of a pretty woman’s head, or he could be led a 
willing captive by the most inexperienced 
coquette, with him business predominated gal- 
lantry, and a billet doux on rose-tinted paper was 
powerless beside an encouraging report from his 
expert. Consequently the heliotrope-scented mis- 
sive was doomed to await the pleasure of the 
receiver, imagining, as he did, that it must be a 
request for no small number of his dollars, which 
seemed to be at the command of men and women 
alike, particularly if she was a pretty and fascinat- 
ing woman, with a soupgon of insouciant freedom, 
and old ” Banatyne seemed to find none who 
were not. 

“ By Jove, she’s true as steel,” said Halstead 
with a tinge of envy in his voice for such con- 


LADIES FIRST. 


15 


< i 


stancy. “ You ought to marry her, Banatyne.” 
The remark implied that such marriage might be 
a condescension on Banatyne’s part, while a great 
compliment conferred upon the absent one under 
discussion. 

“ She is an adorable creature/' returned Bana- 
tyne, his business voice softened to a lover's tone, 

but there’s a gulf separating us." 

“ And what is that ? " asked Halstead, sur- 
prised. ' . 

It’s all very well for you bachelors, who have 
no incumbrances, to give advice," said Banatyne, 
“ but do you ever stop to consider influence upon 
children? Wouldn’t it be a great injustice to 
give my child such companionship?" 

Halstead answered with some impatience : 
‘‘ Now you’re talking like a putty man. Influ- 
ence ! ’’ he echoed the word almost mockingly. 
Then not wishing to appear too harsh he changed 
to softer mood and added lightly : ‘‘ Suffering 
humanity ! anyone to hear you talk would think 
you’d just dropped down from Heaven with a 
special halo for your saintly head. How about 
your own influence ? ’’ he asked in a laughing 
tone, needful to make a bold suggestion accepta- 
ble. 

“ Oh ! ’’ answered Banatyne, whisking the ashes 
from his cigar, “the world looks differently upon 
such a state of things in a man." 

“ There you go — that is so like a man. By 
Jove, Banatyne, we are pompous animals. But 
divest us of the indulgence allowed us by the 
partial conventionals of the world — rob us of the 


i6 


LADIES FIRST. 


<< 


foible of self-importance — and what are we ? 
Why, mere mental pigmies — moral monstrosities 
and cowards by instinct. If we want to do any- 
thing real mean, we conveniently envelop our- 
selves in the cloak afforded us by that society 
which spoils us with its fostering care, and, like a 
humored small boy, cuddle in our mother’s petti- 
coats and say : ^ Mamma says I may,’ at the same 
time pointing a tantalizing finger at his twin sis- 
ter, he adds : * You can’t, mamma won’t let you ! ’ 
We really should be proud of ourselves, we are 
such brave and noble animajs.” And Halstead’s 
lips curled in sarcasm, while the color burned in 
his face as he finished this outburst in favor of the 
sex he genuinely and honorably loved to a degree, 
approaching veneration. 

“ Well, what are we going to do about it?” 
asked Banatyne, smiling at his friend’s earnest- 
ness. ‘‘You and I can’t go on a crusade against 
the ways of the whole world, for the masculine 
portion would not be the only ones arrayed 
against us, but the weaker sex ” 

“ They may be weaker physically, but great 
Caesar’s ghost ! They are regular full-fledged 
Samsons compared with us morally,” blurted out 
the woman’s champion. 

“ Please allow me to finish my sentence, Hal- 
stead,” returned Banatyne good naturedly, for in 
his soul he agreed with Halstead in every word. “ I 
was going to say that it is a recognized fact that 
women are more exacting towards their own sex 
than men are.” 

“Yes, of course, and why are they so exacting 


LADIES FIRST. 


17 


• u 

regarding their own sex ? ” excitedly went on 
Halstead. His color deepened with his poetic sen- 
timent for those he considered almost defenseless. 
“ Yes, why ? ” he repeated. “ Simply because the 
world in its harshness toward them as a sex 
is so unbearably tyrannical that it makes them 
cowards. If a woman as pure as an angel should 
hold out a helping hand to a fallen sister, the act 
of charity would be recorded in her favor in 
Heaven, but it would smirch her character in the 
eyes of this world. She is forced by wrongly 
organized society to appear cruel and cold to her 
own sex. I, for one, hope the time is not far dis- 
tant when she, through increased independence of 
character, will be as ready to frown upon the 
uncleanness and impurity of a man as she does 
now, through cowardice, upon that of woman." 

“ Hear ! hear ! Go it, old man ! My sentiments 
exactly. Ton my soul, you look glorious when 
you champion the cause of woman," said Bana- 
tyne, clapping his hands by way of approval. 

Why, we may go through all the dissipations 
that cry to Heaven for vengeance, but when we 
come to select a wife, a girl in her teens — who has 
been kept as closely guarded as a pearl in its oyster 
shell — is scarcely reckoned pure enough for our 
spoilt and debauched lordships," concluded Hal- 
stead, just as a third party entered the office. 


i8 


LADIES FIRST.” 


CHAPTER II. 

'T 

FIGURES don’t LIE.*' 

** Hello, Prince James, come right along if you 
want to read a report that’ll make your eyes dance 
and see stars for the rest of your natural life,” was 
Halstead’s abrupt change of subject. He had a 
way of inventing names that he thought suited the 
peculiarities of his friends. He called Kelvyn 
“ Prince James ” on account of his faultless style 
in dress and polished manners, Halstead himself 
being somewhat inclined to carelessness in his own 
attire. 

“ I haven’t read the report myself. But I’ll take 
Ban’s word for it,” he added, rising from his chair. 
“ I have an engagement ” — here he jerked out his 
watch in a nervous hurry and cried, “ By Jove, that 
young lady’ll think me as uncivilized as a Hotten- 
tot. I’m sure to be five minutes late. Can’t help 
it,” and he rushed from the office. 

I suppose you’d like to be a Croesus inside of a 
week,” said Banatyne to the new comer, a smile of 
the most cordial welcome beaming upon his face. 

“ No objections,” laconically answered the other, 
as he walked up to his friend Banatyne, with the 
air of one who knew that he was not an intruder 
— and their hands met in warm and hearty grasp. 

James Kelvyn’s presence was always pleasing to 
Banatyne. He was a manly young fellow, not 


‘ LADIES FIRST. 


19 


more than twenty-five years old — a superb speci. 
men of his Maker’s mechanism — frame and muscle 
magnificent, complexion olive, hair and mustache 
dark brown. Eyes hazel and glistening with mirth 
and gayety, a poetic head surmounting the body 
of a powerful young athlete. An impulsive nature, 
easily led by one who gained his confidence, which 
was not a difficult task, for he was at that age when 
all men were honest in his eyes, and the world 
wore its rosiest hues. 

He was ambitious of financial success, and 
through Banatyne’s assistance and points ” he 
had passed several milestones in the direction of 
his goal. He was secretary for more than a dozen 
mining companies, at a liberal salary from each, 
making an aggregate sum that even a capitalist 
would not refuse. He swore by his friend Bana- 
tyne as he would by his own honor, and called him 
his Big Injun,” meaning by the expression that 
he was his hero and model in all things. The care- 
less, don’t-care-what-happens air of the mine pro- 
moter fascinated the young man. To Kelvyn, 
Banatyne was the most daring, boldest and bravest 
character he had ever known, and he determined 
to follow him on to victory. The possibility of 
failure never thrust its gaunt and discouraging 
shadow before his hopeful young eyes. The cur- 
tain between him and the near future was of 
impenetrable thickness, and he cared not to 
pierce it. 

His close attention to the fascinating wiles of 
the capricious stock market made him oblivious to 
the charms of society. His very indifference to 


20 


LADIES FIRST. 


<< 


the existence of women piqued their vanity .and 
put them on their mettle to capture this unappre- 
ciative “ Lord of Creation/’ Their manoeuvres 
to attract the attention of the handsome, well-fixed 
financially, and unconscious Apollo would have 
made the head of a more devoted swain take on 
most prodigious proportions. The girls who were 
in love with Kelvyn were many, and still he was 
wholly unconscious of their tender feelings, and 
innocent of any act of his that had created suffer- 
ing in young hearts of the opposite sex ; an exas- 
perating state of things for the girls, for which his 
God-given, attractive personality or brilliant finan- 
cial outlook, perhaps both, were to blame. Kel- 
vyn’s mother was a well-to-do widow, whom he 
loved with beautiful, tender, filial devotion. They 
occupied a handsome home, part of the estate left 
by his late father. Time had rushed along, and 
the dear, gray-haired mother was in the evening 
of life, when one fears to venture, and leans upon 
the arm of younger blood ; when parent takes the 
place of the child she has led by the hand into 
independence, and the child by virtue of unworn 
force and unspent strength assumes the responsi- 
bility of parent. She looked up to her son as 
counselor and guide in all things. 

As Banatyne turned and twisted the ore speci- 
mens, pointing out their good qualities to Kelvyn, 
who didn’t understand so much about them as did 
this P. M. (which letters Halstead sometimes 
placed in the corner of his calling cards, and which 
were the abbreviations for Practical Miner,”) the 
men composing his syndicate began to assemble 


LADIES FIRST.” 


21 


in his outer office in answer to a call for a meeting 
to consider the report on the new mining property, 
which report had been anxiously awaited for some 
weeks. Banatyne expatiated upon the merits of 
the new ledge, declaring in his forceful style that 
there was never anything like it in the history of 
mining. ‘‘ No risk run in investing in this new 
property. I tell you the ledge in the Peerless is 
gigantic, almost solid walls and a vein of almost 
pure metal. The Comstock is an infant compared 
to it,” he went on with increasing energy. ‘‘But 
read the report, which is, of course, as bloodless as 
a fish, but according to that calculation we have 
more than five hundred thousa-nd tons of ore de- 
veloped and in sight. Lowest average $100.00 
per ton, that makes $50,000,000. Isn’t that as 
plain as day ? Figures don’t lie ; anybody’ll tell 
you that,” and his imagination continued to 
stretch to its fullest tension, while the most tran- 
quil air of the sincerest honesty that a human 
countenance ever wore overspread his features. 

It required a man of nerve to enter and lead 
others into this wild and unknown path of chance. 
His extravagant talk produced a kind of intoxica- 
tion, as a result of which the ordinary rules of 
prudence were forgotten. “ Cost of mining and 
milling, you can lump at $5.00 per ton, because 
wood and water are plenty,” he dashed along : our 
two hundred stamp mill” (which mill, of course, 
hadn’t even been contracted for) “ will crush 500 
tons per day, which makes $50,000.00 per day. Do 
you see?” and not waiting for questions to be 
answered, for he read acquiescence in his listeners. 


22 


LADIES FIRST; 


animated faces, he continued ; “ Deduct cost of 
mining and milling, and it makes $47,500.00 per 
day, net; multiply that by, say, thirty days, for 
the mill will run Sundays, and we have a monthly 
net yield of $1,325,000.00. Now, what dividend is 
that on 200,000 shares ? Why, over six dollars per 
share per month, and the yearly product over $i 5,- 
000,000.00 ! — all available for dividends. T ell you, 
there never was anything like it! The Comstock 
isn’t a circumstance to the Peerless,” as he wiped 
the perspiration from his forehead, “ and if it was 
anywhere within forty miles of the Comstock, 
it would sell for double the money,” he added. 

Of course the shares were all subscribed for, at 
figures much in advance of the purchase money 
paid by Banatyne to the original owners of the 
crude prospect, the subscribers considering them- 
selves fortunate individuals to get in at what they 
were assured was bed-rock price.” The dear 
public ” would be accommodated at a much 
greater advance when the stock was listed and the 
manipulation of the deal began. 

By the time the meeting of the privileged 
share-holders had adjourned, many frequenters of 
California Street had gathered in Banatyne’s outer 
offices. Men who showed theunmistakable air of 
prosperity and men who had borne the strokes of 
adversity, but who, having been once intoxicated 
by the elixir of a ‘‘good buy,” were powerless to 
resist the temptation to try their luck again. 

They were ready to file into the ranks once more, 
and if it were possible to realize a sufficient sum 
upon the garments that covered their backs, would 


LADIES FIRST. 


23 


ti 


have parted with them in a moment, and so put up 
a margin on ten shares of stock — provided Bana- 
tyne would give them a sure “ point,’’ which he was 
seldom scrupulously backward in doing; never 
failing, as we have seen, to prove to them by fig- 
ures, which “never lie,” the enormous dividends 
which would be forthcoming inside of sixty days 
“ or less.” 

Even “ mud-hens,” the discourteous title 
bestowed by the gallant curbstone operators upon 
the fair women who ventured to take a hand in the 
game of chance, were there to ask Banatyne’s 
opinion about stocks, and, of course, they were 
advised to put all their pin money in Peerless, 
for Roy was never flesh to one, fowl to another. 
He courted the aid of everyone in his deals. 
Many “mickles make a muckle,” as his ancestors 
would say. Everything was grist that came to 
his mill. 

“ Would you advise me to buy Comstocks or 
to short them ? ” “ Do you think Ophir or Gould 

& Curry will carry their dividends ?” “ What do 

you think Belcher will do to-day ? ” were among 
the numerous questions asked by these venture- 
some dames. Banatyne thought he had an audi- 
ence worthy of his subject. If they did not buy 
they would surely advertise his latest scheme, and 
he advanced the cause of his Peerless in this 
strain : “ You’ll make a big killing as sure as taxes.” 

“ Yes, just as sure as Gabriel ’ll blow his trum- 
pet,” came the cheery voice of Halstead from the 
corridor, for he had made a hurried call and 
returned in time for the meeting. 


24 


LADIES FIRST. 


( ( 


The fever quickly spread and became as quickly 
epidemic. Men mortgaged their homes ; women 
realized on their diamonds to enable them to pur- 
chase some co/veted shares of the Peerless. In a 
few days the property was incorporated, with a 
capitalization up in the millions. Banatyne was 
made president and Kelvyn secretary, and appli- 
cation was made/r^7 forma to list the stock upon 
the Exchange. 

Ever}^ foot of Kelvyn’s mother’s property was 
mortgaged and the money invested in the Peer- 
less, for, in her great love and blind confidence 
in her son’s judgment, Mrs. Kelvyn had trans- 
ferred everything to him, saying : “ It will all 
be his anyway, God bless him ! when I am called 
to join his dear, noble father in the promised land ; 
so why should he not have it now, when he, per- 
haps, needs it most? ” The dear old lady, feeling 
proud and extremely happ}?- in being able to aid 
her son and to show her confidence in their dear 
friend, Banatyne, who, because of his many kind- 
nesses to her “Jamie,” had won a warm place in 
her grateful heart. 

Banatyne was the solitary person whom Kelvyn 
could have said he loved, except this same 
dear, white-haired mother, who awaited the 
return of her son every evening, and while at din- 
ner listened with astonished ears to his recital of 
the fluctuations of fortune in California Street, and 
the inestimable riches of mining properties in 
which he was largely interested through the kind- 
ness of Banatyne. 

Men thought Kelvyn flippant ; he was so light- 


“ LADIES FIRST.’' 


25 


hearted, so boyish, so gay, which were but the 
effervescent qualities, common attributes of suc- 
cess. Roy, with his peculiar, venturesome spirit, 
attracted him — his dash and nerve excited the 
younger man’s admiration, and led him blindly 
by that peculiar hypnotic force that oddly enough 
permits one man to govern another. Keivyn, 
without influence, would have been, for the sake 
of his aged mother, prudent of his financial re- 
sources. But under Banatyne’s magnetic charm 
he had “ staked ” his mother’s last cent upon his 
friend’s judgment of a mining property, and felt 
as secure as if the expected profits were in the 
bank’s vaults. 


36 


“ LADIES FIRST.” 


CHAPTER III. 

A LOVE LEDGE. 

The evening of the day on which the mining 
enterprise or ‘‘ deal,” as Banatyne would call it, 
had been so happily and briskly arranged, these 
two friends dined together in true Bohemian style 
at ‘^The Poodle Dog,” a French restaurant noted 
for its good cheer and easy company. 

As was his habit after a big transaction, Bana- 
tyne imbibed freely whether he had lost or won, 
declaring that champagne was the only beverage 
to properly celebrate the joys of victory or drown 
the sorrows of defeat. It was on such occasions 
that Banatyne’s perpetual affaires du coeur were 
the subject of conversation ; for although he was 
eternally in love, each affair was of short duration. 

“ I am not a marrying man, you know,” he 
would say, when in this confidential mood. “ I love 
the sweetness of a kiss only while it lasts. Why 
should a man marry and burden himself with 
unnecessary cares ? ” 

But as a matter of fact he had married at the 
age of twenty-one, and was the father of as fine a 
boy as any native son of the golden West could 
possibly be. The lad was then about thirteen 
years of age, a handsome sturdy little fellow, an 
exact reproduction in features of his good-looking 
father. He attended Santa Clara College, and for 


LADIES FIRST. 


27 


u 


his special benefit Banatyne kept a magnificent 
suite of rooms at the Occidental Hotel, which 
were also known as Banatyne's home. Here the 
boy’s vacations were spent, his father often wait- 
ing until the close of a school term to take his son 
with him on his mine inspection trips. The boy 
wondered if any other fellow had as great a father 
as he, while Banatyne was confident that his son’s 
equal could not be produced. Dougald (which 
signifies “ stranger ”) was the good strong Scotch 
name that the lad bore. 

His early life was never a subject of conversa- 
tion with Banatyne. His friends sometimes 
asserted that when very young he had married 
in some mining camp, and that his wife was 
still living. Those who studied his charac- 
ter believed that it was some rash act, in keep- 
ing with his impulsiveness in all things; while his 
dear (?) friends whose ostentatious affection for 
value received approached the sycophant type, 
told all the listeners they could find that a stain of 
illegitimacy hung over “ Dug’s ” head — as the little 
fellow was often called. But none ventured to 
question the bright manly boy, much less the 
father, who could be very austere if occasion 
demanded. 

As Ban did not find great enjoyment in con- 
ventional society, it remained an open question 
among those who knew the son whether the father 
was a bachelor or a widower, but as many of ses 
intimes agreed with him that “marriage is the 
salvation of women and the destruction of men,” 
he was even more interesting to them because of 


28 


“ladies first.” 


a past that savored of romance yet was shrouded 
in mystery. 

Banatyne was a man personally to attract the 
ladies — handsome of features, genial in manners 
and careful in dress, and although he had no great 
knowledge of books, he possessed a certain ele- 
gance of bearing that so often outshines the great- 
est erudition. The weaker les belles the better 
he liked them, and the looseness of his purse- 
strings attracted them as the sweets of the flowers 
attract the bees. 

The two friends had partaken with keen relish of 
the toothsome dishes spread before them, and had 
arrived at the dreamy period of liqueurs and 
cigars, when reason sees through misty vistas, the 
tongue without guide cares little what it says, and 
man is hardly accountable for his acts, when Ban 
thought of a little pink note that was nestling 
somewhere nearest his heart. 

“Let me see what Tricksie has to say,” he 
remarked, and taking from his pocket a handful 
of papers, after some difficulty he found the 
neglected missive, which he forthwith opened and 
read : 

“ Dear Boy : 

“ I bought Gould & Curry last week at 75, 
to-day it closed at 40. Fm called upon for ‘ more 
mud.’ Do come around this evening : I want to 
consult you about what’s best to be done.” 

Here Banatjme interpolated, with a broad, 
good natured smile, “ same story,” and a wink at 
Kelvyn that said plainer than words, “ I under- 
stand Tricksie’s tricks,” as he finished the note: 


LADIES FIRST. 


29 


(( 


“ Bring Kelvyn with you, if you can prevail upon 
that icicle to come, and we will thaw him out. 

Tout a vous, 

Mabel.” 

‘^What say you, ‘Prince James,’ to a little 
racket ? ” asked Banatyne. Halstead had given 
him this title which suited him so well that all his 
intimate friends addressed him by it. Kelvyn 
hesitated. Perhaps the vision of a gray head sur- 
mounted by a dainty lace cap passed before his 
somewhat tangled senses. “ Pll toss up whether 
to go there or to Maguire’s Opera House,” con- 
tinued Banatyne, taking a twenty-dollar gold 
piece from his pocket. Kelvyn said he hoped the 
theatre would win. “Well, I hope Tricksie will 
come out ahead,” replied Banatyne. Then he 
offered to wager that Tricksie would come out 
ahead. And he held up his glass to drink to the 
beatific vision that his imagination at that moment 
pictured her. 

“Here’s to you, Tricksie,” he said, “heads 
you win, tails the theater,” and he emptied 
his glass, flipped up the double eagle, which came 
down in Tricksie’s favor. “ I tell you luck’s with 
me to-day, ‘ Prince James,’ ” he continued, “ Why 
I’d ’ave hung myself if that had come down the 
other way,” which gallant exaggeration was mis- 
leading, for it was perfectly immaterial to him 
whether he went to Tricksie’s or not. 

After some demurring on Kelvyn’s part, he 
concluded that it would not do to oftend Bana- 
tyne, to whom he and his mother felt under great 
obligations, so he soothed the pricks of his con- 


30 


“ladies first.” 


science with the thought “ I’ll go; it’s not only to 
my interest, but to my mother’s interest as well.” 
So with after-dinner Henry Clays between their 
lips, they sauntered along Dupont street, then up 
Sutter, until they reached the place of La Belle s 
abode. It was a splendid establishment, for in 
those days when the “ups and downs ” of fickle 
fortune flirted with each other, these sirens who 
refused the narrow path of prudishness and con- 
vention flirted with the promoters of the cause, 
amused themselves with the caprice of a momen- 
tary romance and basked in the sunshine of tem- 
porary prosperity. 

Tricksie was beautiful ; even the most surly cynic 
could not deny that. Her hair was glistening 
gold. Her eyes as blue as the sapphires that 
adorned her pretty pink-tipped ears and fingers. 
Her complexion perfect, without the aid of arti- 
fice, as the changes of color in her pretty dimpled 
cheeks attested. Her figure was always robed 
with a careful study to show to best advantage 
its graceful outlines. A tout ensemble of youth, 
grace and beauty. 

Tricksie prided herself upon her woman’s subtle 
intuition that reads men like 'books. She under- 
stood Roy’s weak points, and though he professed 
indifference to her sex she knew he could hardly 
deny a request from even a plain woman, and she 
did not wonder at his plight when under the 
influence of her fascinating wiles. His wealth had 
surrounded her with the most extravagant luxury, 
but it was not wealth that Tricksie craved ; mar- 
riage was the goal for which she longed, and 


^‘ladies first.” 


31 


marriage it should be if she could overcome the 
scruples that tortured her. 

For she recognized marriage as the harbor- 
light of her reformation — as the solace for a most 
alert conscience. “ The world will say that I am 
not worthy of him” she meditated. “ The world 
may be right in- theory but in justice it is wrong. 
Why is the same fault worse in me than it is in him ? 
Are women made of superior clay that so much 
perfection is expected of them? He was the 
emissary from Satan who tempted me. If I have 
sinned, he is my only partner in guilt. To him I 
have been as true as ever was wife sanctioned by 
most holy writ. To take another false step would 
be to degrade me beyond self-recognition. If con- 
stancy and faithful love count for aught, I am en- 
titled to be his wife as legally as ever woman was 
bound to man. Why should I allow a self-humility, 
a self-unworthiness to stand between me and honor- 
able wifehood ? I am surely not so much baser than 
he in the eyes of my God. His love, as does 
His wrath, falls upon His children alike. It is the 
cruel and unjust prejudice of the world toward 
her daughters that makes a crime so much worse 
in me than it is in him, but it is time to think of 
myself more and let the world, which trampled 
upon me when I struggled to make an honest 
living, think what it pleases.” 

Her arguments and reasoning were not always 
convincing to her torturing opponent — the wee 
but persisting voice of scruple. 

As Banatyne and Kelvyn entered they found 
Tricksie gracefully reposing in the comforting 


32 


LADIES FIRST. 


( < 


abyss of a lar^e easy chair^ which she had studi- 
ously placed in a soft red light, knowing that this 
subdued, rosy glow would further enhance her 
already beautiful complexion. The arms of the 
chair caressed the outlines of her form as if gloat- 
ing over the fact that their privilege caused pangs 
of envy to masculine hearts. 

At Tricksie’s back, and under her head, 
were several silken pillows, the delicate hues 
of which she knew were most becoming. 
One little foot in pale, silken stocking, and satin 
slipper covering, resting upon a stool of unique 
design, peeped from beneath her dainty lace skirts, 
and looked as innoceni as an infant’s smile ; and 
notwithstanding that Tricksie had spent moments 
of premeditated care to use this weapon to the 
best possible advantage one would never ha^re 
dreamed she had given it a thought, it looked so 
guileless. 

A Gatling gun would not have been more fatal 
to poor Roy had it struck him in the region of the 
heart, than was that wee little satin-covered toe. 
She waved a large white feather fan and looked 
as soft as velvet and as innocent as a fawn. Pretty ! 
fascinating ! weak little woman ! 

After a commonplace greeting, Roy remarked : 
** You are beautiful enough to drive men to perdi- 
tion, Miss Mabel,” not trying in the least to dis- 
guise his a^imiration. 

‘"Well, don’t you think it’s a jolly trip ?” laughed 
back Tricksie. 

“ What, drifting to the bad ? ” asked Kelvyn. 

“ Not drifting, but going headlong,” answered 


“ LADIES FIRST.” 


33 


Tricksie, with a reckless abandon that startled 
even Banatyne. 

Tricksie thought it was chic to talk naughtily, 
though she knew better than she did, and she did 
better than she talked. 

“ How about the stopping place ? ” was Kelvyn’s 
suggesti’^e question. 

The4:emperature will hardly be equal to a thaw- 
out for such an icicle as you, Mr. Kelvyn,” 
retorted Tricksie with a thrilling don’t-care sort 
of laugh which so fascinated Roy that he 
immediately collapsed into a state of complete 
hypnotic helplessness. 

^‘I’m convinced you’d find it otherwise. Miss 
Mabel ; a scorching heat would even melt hearts 
like yours,” returned Kelvyn. 

You needn’t try to make me think of the dun- 
geon of eterijal pain, Mr. Kelvyn, and so spoil all 
my joys in. this world that I may be happy in 
another, which other world, to say the least, 
appears to me to be a great uncertainty, ” boldly 
asserted the fair doubter. 

‘‘ It d(3es seem the other world is all guess,” 
Banatyne said, agreeing with T ricksie at the peril 
of his soul or a dozen souls if he had had them. 

Kelvyn, seeing his friend Banatyne on danger- 
ous ground, ventured, “ If, in practising your 
Atheism, Miss Mabel, you only injured yourself, 
your sin would not be so great. Do you ever hold 
yourself responsible for the downfall of others ? ” 

I hold myself responsible for nothing, Mr. 
Kelvyn, save to see that I have a good time while 
youth permits. Ah! irrevocable youth!” Trick- 


34 


LAr)IES FIRST. 


n 

sie said, with a lingering fondness in her voice for 
that youth which meant all the world to her. 

“ It will be safer,” replied Kelvyn, to be able 
to tell the Lord that you have redeemed some 
fallen soul than that you have aided in its down- 
fall. Women should be God’s allies in trying to 
save men rather than joint conspirator.s with his 
Satanic Majesty in helping him make them even 
worse than they are,” Kelvyn returned. 

‘‘ And why, pray, is so much more expected of 
women than of men ? Are we not all mortals, 
burdened with the same weaknesses?” asked 
Tricksie, with heightened color and sparkling 
eyes as she warmed with the excitement of conver- 
sation. I declare, Mr. Kelvyn, you remind me 
of one of my youthful experiences,” she continued. 
“ A ‘ big brother ’ of twelve took his two little 
sisters, bright, golden-haired, blue-eyed little 
cherubs of eight and ten, to a children’s party. 
Soon began the games of Pillow and Keys, Ring 
Round Rosy and other kissing games. The big 
brother drew his charges into a corner, saying 
‘ Children, you must not play these kissing games. 
Sit right here and keep quiet, or I shall tell mother 
when we get home ! ’ 

With this parting admonition he left them, 
frightened and alone, but joined the laughing ring 
himself, and became one of the foremost in kissing 
the other fellows sisters. At length the lady of 
the house seeing the two forlorn little figures 
clinging together with unshed tears in their pretty, 
wistful eyes, led them into the games. Of course 
all the boys pounced upon them as they were new- 


LADIES FIRST. 


35 


< < 


comers, and the little girls had a merry romp 
until, chancing to catch the glaring eyes of the 
big brother, all joy was taken out of their poor 
little hearts, for that glance plainly said : ‘ Unnat- 
ural, shameless ones ! When we reach home you 
shall be spanked and put to bed.’ 

“As in tact they were, being made to feel that 
they had disgraced themselves and brother, sim- 
ply because they had only done the half of what 
he had enjoyed to the fullest. 

“ May you never be tempted, ‘ big brother,’ ” 
laughingly continued Tricksie, “ though of course 
a man may have all the brightness of life without 
reproach,” she added bitterly, yet with such 
pathos in her voice that Ban winced a little, and 
even Kelvyn’s tones became less severe as he 
replied : 

“ Your illustration. Miss Mabel, is apt as a les- 
son from childhood, but remember the line 
between artless youthful innocence and growing 
susceptibility is closely drawn. With my con- 
victions of duty, call them strained if you like, I 
should as readily condemn the brother as the sis- 
ters. Sow and you shall reap ! According to 
my code of principles, girls from their very 
infancy should be guarded more closely, if pos- 
sible, than your pet bird there in its cage. They 
are Heaven’s representatives in this miserable 
world of ours. May you soon be convinced of 
my way of thinking.” 

Tricksie only shrugged her pretty shoulders at 
Kelvyn, and beamed her sunniest smile upon 
Banatyne, as she asked, “ Does the religion you 


36 


LADIES FIRST. 




profess, Mr. Kelvyn, constitute you the uninvited 
adviser of the public ? ” 

“ I profess no particular religious dogma, Miss 
Mabel, but I believe in Christianity and an hon- 
est life, and I try to live as I believe. May the 
angels whisper to you some day of the goodness 
of God,” Kelvyn said so solemnly that the profane 
smile died upon Tricksie’s lips, almost before it 
was born, as he took her hand to bid her good 
night. Tricksie’s pretty white eyelids drooped 
until they veiled her softened eyes, which a 
moment before were flashing defiance. 

As she rose to bid her guest a more courteous 
leave, the movements and poses of her graceful 
figure, robed in a gown of gauzy, clinging text- 
ure, soft as summer zephyr, completed her con- 
quest of Banatyne, and a momentary glimmer of 
jealousy passed through his mind as he thought 
that Kelvyn held her hand longer than was 
necessary. 

Kelvyn’s words and manner smote Tricksie’s 
conscience, and for an instant after his departure 
her gayety subsided ; but to be conventional and 
thoughtful she imagined was to be stupid, and to 
be stupid was to cease to be attractive, and Trick- 
sie was equal to the occasion. 

“Humph,” she said, “Mr. Kelvyn ought to have 
been a preacher. Ice water is warm compared to 
him. If he is not soulless, he is as heartless as the 
world’s charity,” and she playfully brushed 
Roy’s cheek with the white feathers of her fan, 
and then her soft, warm hand lay caressingly on 
his, and she gazed into his eyes with an injured 
baby look. 


LADIES FIRST. 


37 


( ( 


“ Do you know, Roy,” she said, I stand to lose 
dreadfully in that Gould & Curry buy ; I really 
may be obliged to part with my jewelry ” 

‘‘ Nonsense, nonsense, little one,” said Banatyne 
interrupting her. “ Part with your jewelry ? 
Well, not while yours truly has a bank account or 
credit with the brokers. How much do you 
need ? ” 

“ My brokers want three thousand for margin,” 
was the reply, ‘‘and they want it P. D. Q., as 
usual.” 

Roy’s gallantry and purse supplied the demand, 
and relieved Tricksie’s momentary worry. 

The sum was large, but it was given freely by 
the Prince of Generosity, as Ban was sometimes 
called. A much less beautiful or fascinating 
woman, or a brother man met coming down the 
hill of adversity, would have been treated with the 
same liberality, and why not Tricksie? She, who 
had baited her hook with toothsome bits ? Had 
she asked for twice the sum she would have 
received it from his outstretched palm, with his 
expressed gratitude that she had deigned to 
accept it. There was nothing mean about Roy 
either in love or in stock operations. Such men 
are easy prey for all designing men and women. 

This butterfly woman, who talked and acted 
as if her heart and brain were as empty of sub- 
stance as a soap bubble, was a queer compound. 
When alone, her conscience lashed her with 
knotted cords, and she was as unlike Tricksie of 
an hour before, as day is to night. 

For every reckless word she spoke, for every 


38 


“ LADIES FIRST.’’ 

illegal smile she bestowed, she had pangs oi 
remorse that tortured her soul and were almost 
unbearable. Her ways and means,” necessitated 
by adverse tides, caused the hot blushes of shame 
to mount her forehead and suffuse her cheeks; 
aye, they burned into her inmost conscience like 
flames of hell. 

She had been born in poverty and reared in an 
atmosphere of religious Avholesomeness. She was 
the charity boarder at school, and was obliged to 
do the household drudgery of scrubbing, dish- 
washing and furniture dusting, and other so con- 
sidered servile work, to earn an education. She 
was always accommodating to such of the girls 
as were better supplied with this world’s goods 
than herself, and felt rewarded if they on. occa- 
sions gave her. a patronizing smile. 

But impetuous youth is often thoughtlessly 
cruel. It seldom stops to analyze the effect of an 
unkind word, a cold glance, a scornful shrug of 
the shoulders — and many such were bestowed 
upon poor Mabel in her struggle for an educa- 
tion. There was one, however, in that school 
who took time to be kind, and to whom it Avas 
of no consequence that one of her school 
friends was in fine linen, the other in rags ; her 
smiles and love were like God’s sunshine, for the 
rich and poor alike, and that was whole-souled, 
broad-minded and outspoken Edna Maxwell. 

She always showed a kindly feeling for “ the 
charity girl.” Helped her with encouraging 
words to forget the slurs and coldness of her more 
thoughtless companions. Many a time had she 


LADIES FIRST. 


39 


ti 


comforted her as the poor girl sat by the wayside 
in despair. Mabel had the natural girlish longing 
for feminine finery, which taste was seldom grati- 
fied to the extent even of a new hair ribbon, 
unless Edna’s meagre allowance of pin money 
furnished the wherewithal to make the pitiful 
purchase. Luxuries were strangers to her and 
necessaries were often wanting. 

Her parents died when she was yet young. At ' 
the age of seventeen she started bravely out into 
the surging world to try and earn an honest living. 
Her earnest endeavors in the struggle of life were 
not auccessful. She was “ black and blue ” from the 
bruises she received in her great battle for exist- 
ence, having no weapon but her beauty with 
which to fight her way : a most dangerous, if 
often successful, aid to women. She had gone 
thinly clad and hungry^ while the temptations of 
possible silks and satins and luxurious plenty 
were numerous, and offered with flattering allure- 
ments. 

It requires courage to refuse carriage and 
jewels, purple and fine linen,” when the stomach 
is empty and the body cold. A voice frequently 
whispered in her ear that she was wasting her 
young life in sacrifices, but she would not hear it. 
She trembled when the tempter whispered that 
virtue brought only misery. Tricksie was not 
as strong as most women : yet many stronger and 
better protected have fallen by the wayside. She 
loved life and warmth and luxury. She was 
unthinking. Men found her fair, and flattered 
her vanity, and she craved emancipation from the 


40 


“ LADIES first/' 


slavery of poverty. An emissary of the devil 
pictured in glowing colors the contrast of radiant 
love with her pitiable loneliness and — she yielded 
and became la belle arnie of Roy Banatyne. 

But her emancipation was dearly purchased, for 
all her physical sufferings were as nothing com- 
pared with unrelenting remorse. The memory 
of those poverty-stricken days was invoked 
almost as a self justification, and she would 
exclaim, in appealing voice, Oh, God ! 
Dear God ! Had I kept my soul pure, I would 
have starved, and life is sweet, though heavily 
laden with burdens. Forgive, oh forgive ! ” 

After Roy’s visit, those blinking little night 
owls of heaven, the stars, crept under the gray 
covering of early dawn, before sleep, the solace of 
human woe, closed Tricksie’s tearful eyes, and she 
forgot her joys and sorrows. • 


LADIES FIRST. 


41 


<< 


CHAPTER IV. 

TRICKSIE MEETS AN OLD FRIEND. 

One day, after one of Tricksie’s torturing 
debates with her conscience as to the right or the 
wrong of her marrying Banatyne, she started out to 
indulge in a shopping tour, which was her safety- 
valve in all vexatious moods. As she was stepping 
from her carriage in front of a drygoods empo- 
rium, she came almost in immediate contact with 
an old friend who was bent upon the same feminine 
pastime. A sudden flush of mortification spread 
over Tricksie’s throat and face. She would 
gladly have escaped the meeting, but it was too 
late. 

The young miss of her school days had devel- 
oped into a stylish woman, a transformation of 
figure and feature only ; the brave, warm heart 
was unchanged, for as Tricksie’s outre dress and 
elegant equipage attracted all eyes, so did they 
attract the attention of her defender and com- 
forter in the weary days ot her juvenile state, and, 
entirely regardless of street form or ceremony, she 
fairly snatched Tricksie to her breast, embracing 
her with regulation school-girl gushiness, at the 
same time exclaiming : 

‘‘ Why, Mabel Duprey ! ” The name was as far 
as Edna Maxwell could proceed, for intense 
surprise mingled with sincere pleasure at 


42 


LADIES FIRST. 


(( 


her meeting with Tricksie, whom she had not 
seen since they had left school, for an instant 
robbed her of speech, and, in her excitement, she 
gave Tricksie an impulsive little squeeze. 

‘‘Edna!” was all Tricksie could say, as she 
stood there in the street, much subdued and 
abashed, the target for all observing eyes. 

“Why, Mabel, I hardly recognized, in such 
elegant, fashionable splendor, my dear school 
friend,” said Edna, as soon as she had recovered 
speech after her joyous outburst. 

“ And I scarcely knew in the handsome young 
woman the kind friend of my unhappy childhood,” 
returned Tricksie, pressihg Edna’s hand, while 
blushes mounted and burned her face from chin to 
forehead. 

“ Well, you did seem to be always weighted with 
more of this world’s sorrow than was your share,” 
dashed along Edna, as if a burden had been lifted 
from her sympathetic shoulders, as she kissed 
Tricksie’s burning cheek. “It was time for the 
wheel of fortune to turn in your way. They say 
every dog has his day, Mabel, and I suppose us 
girls must have ours, too.” Edna rushed heed- 
lessly along, overjoyed at her friend’s apparent 
good fortune. 

“ I hope so,” returned Tricksie, more sadly than 
Edna thought the circumstances warranted. 

“Well, I know so,” returned the optimistic 
Edna, with Tricksie standing before her as a shin- 
ing example. Then, noting for the first time the 
burning flush upon Tricksie’s face and her strained 
expression, an idea struck her, and a sudden 


“ LADIES FIRST.” 


43 


thought was no sooner born in Edna’s brain than 
she turned it adrift in words. 

“ Aiarried ?” she exclaimed inquiringly. 

“No,” stammered Tricksie. 

“ How, then? ” asked Edna, with the freedom of 
girlhood friendship, her eyes beaming with happi- 
ness, as they scanned the lavish extravagance in 
Tricksie’s evidently changed circumstances. 

“ I made some money in stocks,” replied Trick- 
sie, and notwithstanding Edna had the best and 
most honest eyes in the world, Tricksie could not 
face them as she made that statement. 

“ Good,” answered Edna heartily. “You know 
I’ve been traveling ever since I left school; had a 
year in Paris" and a season in London, but I’m 
glad to get back to dear California. I just love 
her pioneer ruggedness.” Then turning suddenly 
she said : “ But see how we are attracting the 
passers-by. Come, let us go into the store,” and as 
she started to suit the action to her words, she 
in true school-girl style passed her arm around 
Tricksie’s waist, but apparently her companion 
was not responsive, for she drew back in very evi- 
dent awkward constraint. 

She had never felt so painfully and gall- 
ingly the brand of the scarlet letter as 
at that moment. To be seen with her friend 
she knew was contaminating to that friend’s char- 
acter. She must appear cold when her heart 
yearned to embrace. She must stand aloof be- 
cause her friendship would injure the one she 
loved so well. She must not enter the store with 
Edna, nor was it right for her to be seen in the 


44 


“ LADIES FIRST.” 


street with her. She could not accompany her to 
her hotel, neither could she ask her friend to her 
own home. No one knew better than Tricksie or 
could possibly feel it more keenly than she did, 
that her spiritual disease was as infectious to her 
friend’s reputation as is the leper to the physical 
condition of one incautious enough to breathe the 
same poisonous atmosphere with the one so 
afflicted. No one knew better than Tricksie how 
slight a suspicion would tarnish the fair name of 
one of her own sex. 

“What must I do?” was her troubled mental 
query. Quick as a flash came her answer to the 
dilemma. 

“ Get into the brougham, Edna,” she said 
abruptly. “ I want to hear all about yourself.” 
And without allowing her friend to object, she in 
her excitement almost lifted her into the well- 
appointed equipage that awaited her pleasure. 

“To the Cliff!” she ordered the coachman 
briefly, and hurriedly seated herself in the car- 
riage, feeling relieved when she closed the door and 
happy in the thought that she could have Edna> 
at least for a little while, away from the scrutiniz- 
ing eyes of the watch-dogs of society and secure 
that, in this way, she would be less liable to 
wound the friend of her childhood with her own 
sword. 

After the first outburst of young and loving 
hearts, and inquiries and answers concerning 
schoolmates, teachers and kindred subjects of 
mutual interest, Edna, who could not keep her 
eyes one minute from Tricksie’s sumptuous belong- 


“ LADIES FIRST.” 


45 


ings, or her brain one minute from wondering 
how it came about, said, as she passed her arm 
around Tricksie’s waist and gave her an affection- 
ate little hug : 

“ Come now, Mabel, tell me all about your sud- 
den good fortune. I’m as glad as if I had’ been 
the lucky one myself. It really seems like a won- 
derful fairy story.” 

“ Well, a friend of mine gave me some points in 
stocks,” commenced Tricksie, toying with her 
porte-monnaie. 

And they came out all right?” returned 
Edna, patting Tricksie caressingly upon her 
daintily gloved hand. 

Yes,” answered Tricksie, her eyes cast down. 

“ A friend worth having,” remarked Edna. 

Perhaps you would not think her so,” Tricksie 
said, not daring to look into Edna’s frank and 
honest young face. 

“ Why do you insinuate that I might not appre- 
ciate her friendship ? ” Edna asked, showing sur- 
prise. 

“ Because by some she is considered a citizen of 
Bohemia, the land of the free, and freedom is an 
expensive luxury for a woman,” returned Trick- 
sie, determined and anxious to have Edna’s opin- 
ion of herself and surroundings, even if obliged to 
practice a little subterfuge to obtain it. 

“ Am I to understand that she is a woman living 
after her own law?” questioned Edna, with a 
whole line full of interrogation points in her aston- 
ished voice. 

“ In a certain degree, yes,” replied Tricksie, and 


46 


“ LADIES FIRST. 


her eyes gazed out of her carriage window, while 
Edna looked at her with closer scrutiny. 

“ She was homeless and friendless,” continued 
Tricksie, nervously, without even as much as a 
glance in her friend’s face, who was watching 
her intently, ‘‘ sensitive, emotional ” — she went on 
as if speaking to a father confessor. Exigencies 
of circumstances almost compelled her to fall. 
She is not fitted by nature nor by temperament 
to abide in the atmosphere of Bohemia. She has 
erred, to be sure, but her conscience scourges her 
every hour she lives for that false step. Knowing 
this, would you reject her friendship?” asked 
Tricksie, and she nervously pressed her 
handkerchief to her upper lip to dry a slight 
perspiration that had gathered there, while her 
feet and hands grew cold as she awaited almost 
breathlessly her friend’s answer. 

“ Much depends upon the woman in question,” 
returned Edna, thoughtfully, “ If, as you say, she 
was forced to err and is sincerely repentant — well,” 
she paused cautiously. “ I don’t think there can 
be any difference of opinion on the subject,” she 
added: 

And what is vour opinion ? ” asked Tricksie, 
eagerly, as she took Edna’s hand, unconsciously 
pressed it, and for the first time had courage to 
look into her companion’s face. 

I would look at her false step in a broad and 
generous way. If she had stumbled and fallen, I 
should certainly lend her a helping hand to lift her 
up,” was Edna’s response. 

“Always my generous Edna, ready to encourage 


LADIES FIRST." 


47 


(( 

rather than condemn," said Tricksie, with grate- 
ful love. 

“ Why, if she finds that she has taken the wrong 
path, the one that will lead her into the mire, she 
certainly has the right of individual action and 
may and should be helped to retrace her steps. 
No, Mabel, far from shunning her, I would aid her 
bewildered soul in its groping for the right path," 
Edna said. '‘But why so sad, Mabel? One 
might think it was you, you take your friend’s 
trouble so to heart. Don’t let your sympathy 
worry your gentle heart too much, cherie!' con- 
tinued Edna as she embraced Tricksie. 

“ I do sympathize with her deeply," Tricksie 
said, in a faltering voice, and for an instant silence 
like a requiem for the struggling soul fell upon 
them. 

Presently Tricksie ventured : 

Suppose she had an offer of marriage from 
a respected man — this man knowing her past — 
would it be right for her to accept him ? " 

“ That depends upon circumstances. Of course, 
it is understood that she is determined to be a true 
and loyal wife," began Edna. 

“ Oh, there isn’t the slightest doubt about that," 
interrupted Tricksie warmly, “but she loves him 
with such intensity that she is willing to sacrifice 
her own happiness rather than to be so selfish as 
to injure him, and she is fearful that an alliance of 
marriage with her will lower his position in the 
community." 

“ I’m afraid your friend is over scrupulous. 
There is such a thing as pulling chestnuts Out of 


48 


LADIES FIRST. 


( i 


the fire for one’s own consumption sometimes,” 
was Edna’s very practical and prosaic suggestion. 

Besides a woman seldom affects her husband’s 
status ; she might possibly aid him to some extent, 
but I don’t think that she can ever, by her own 
individual exertions, place him at the pin- 
nacle of her amibition ; neither can she lower 
him in the eyes of the world. It is the man’s 
privilege to make the niche in life that the wife 
must occupy; no matter how far superior she is to 
her husband, marriage places her exactly upon 
his level. And a wife has very little to do with 
the making or unmaking of his position in the 
community, and that’s all there is about it from 
my narrow view of the case,” concluded Edna, as 
the horses stopped at the entrance to the Cliff 
House, an hostelry celebrated the world over for 
its ocean view and seal-infested rocks ; for it is 
here that the soft Pacific foams in long, lazy billows 
over islets covered with the true sea-lion. At that 
time it was the place par excellence for the bloods 
of San Francisco to bait their trotters and refresh 
the inner man. 

Its great veranda facing the ocean was often 
crowded with the belles of San Francisco society 
and their beaux in the afternoon, and occupied later 
in the evening by ladies of a lighter character with 
their gentlemen friends. 

Let us jump out and have a glance at Ben 
Butler and his lesser brethren ! ” suggested Miss 
Maxwell, eagerly, as the hoarse barking of the 
seals came fiercely to them, mingled with the roar 
of the surf. 


“ LADIES FIRST." 


49 


^‘No!no! Tell the coachman to drive along 
the beach, then back to the Occidental,” hur- 
riedly said Tricksie to the footman, for she had 
seen one or two of Banatyne’s intimates lounging 
at the portals of this popular inn, casting curious 
eyes on the equipage, as if wondering who were 
its occupants. The low tide had left the sea- 
splashed beach as glossy and firm as a parquet 
floor. The coachman gave the horses the ribbons, 
and they pranced along over the smooth surface 
at their own sweet will ; the beating of their hoofs 
and jingle of their harness lost in the ocean’s 
tumultuous war. The ambitious breakers, with 
each unsuccessful effort to reach their highest 
point when in their mighty prime, dashed against 
the carriage wheels, bathed the grateful hoofs of 
the splendid thoroughbreds, then receded crest- 
fallen, leaving the beach strewn with their snowy 
froth. The splendid brutes sped away at a rapid 
gait; the white foam, flying from their mouths over 
breasts and flanks, was carried by the stiff sea 
breeze until it mingled with the scattered foam of 
the surf ; they sniffed the invigorating salt air 
until their horse-flesh fairly trembled with intoxi- 
cating delight. 

As Tricksie looked from her carriage window 
she thought : 

“ Even those waves in their angry mood would 
be more merciful to me. than the judgment of 
pleasure seekers assembled in that house, and who 
by the law of humanity are reckoned my brothers 
and sisters. All children of the great unseen 
Father. They are, indeed, without pity.” 


56 Ladies first." 

Now the carriage rolled over the magnificent 
road on its return to the city as the two young 
girls, so fair to look upon, chatted merrily of the 
beautiful scene, the latest styles and anything that 
came to Tricksie’s quick mind, which she felt must 
keep the conversation from her personal affairs. 
Both declared the drive had been too short as they 
reached the door of Edna’s hotel. 

‘‘You’ll come and see me to-morrow, Mabel,” 
Edna said, as she was stepping from the carriage. 

“ There may be no to-morrow,” replied Tricksie, 
hiding her sadness behind a forced and nervous 
smile. 

“ How very cautious and precise you are get- 
ting ! ” returned Edna, feigning an offended air. 
“Well, I shall certainly see you very soon,” she 
added, kissing her hand to Tricksie as she went 
toward the hotel entrance. 

“ Nothing could give me greater pleasure,” re- 
plied Tricksie. 

At this moment Banatyne, accompanied by 
Dougald, suddenly emerged from the very door 
Edna was about to enter. He was transfixed with 
astonishment as he noted to whom Miss Maxwell’s 
affectionate gestures were directed. Tricksie 
caught the swift covert glance he darted toward 
her while he bared his head with most chivalrous 
gallantry to Edna. 

As the horses moved away Tricksie quickly 
gathered her frou-frou skirts with nervous grasp, 
and cautiously peering through the little window 
at the back of her carriage, saw Banatyne and 
Edna engaged in animated conversation. He 


LADIES FIRST. 


51 


(( 


was troubled with no scruples about any serious 
results coming to Edna from being seen in the 
honest light of day in his company, while she had 
felt like a thief in the night stealing a few hours 
of this sweet girhs companionship. 

Then her eyes rested upon Dougald, and she 
wondered who this handsome boy, so like Bana- 
tyne, could be. Then the carriage turning a 
corner shut the interesting group from her vision. 

She sank back sobbing amid the richly uphol- 
stered cushions, enveloped in her silks, furs and 
costly laces, smarting with the sting of utter 
humiliation as she recalled the distinction that 
Banatyne had made in his greeting to her, who, 
through her love for him, had become an outcast 
from society, and his greeting to Edna, who had 
lived a life that slander could not touch. 

“ Ah, why could not I have had the protection 
of a home and pure love too,” she moaned, as in 
this hour of anguish she drained to its very dregs 
the bitter cup of retribution. 

In less than two hours after Edna’s return to 
her rooms, a box was handed to her, which upon 
opening she found contained a generous bunch of 
beautiful violets, attached to which was a note 
that read as follows : 

“ To dear Edna, the friend of my school days : 

From one she should not know, for I am of those who are 
nameless.” 

Edna crushed the note in her hands nervously, 
while the color receded from her face and lips. 

“ Great God ! ” she ejaculated beneath her 
breath. It is Mabel Duprey’s writing. Then it 


52 


LADIES FIRST. 




was her own story that she told me to-day !” 

Her lips trembled while tears gathered in her 
eyes and like heaven’s dew fell upon and watered 
the violets that Tricksie had plucked with loving 
touch and sent to the trusted friend of her child- 
hood. 


LADIES FIRST. 


53 




CHAPTER V. 

THE BEAR DANCE ON PEERLESS. 

Kelvyn had been sent East, and educated in 
the classics, which was then considered the proper 
educational regimen. He was graduated from one 
of the leading Eastern medical schools, and bore 
with him his parchment degree of M.D. When 
he returned to San Francisco, he practiced his 
profession just one year, but found that the 
pioneer physicians, who embraced many of the 
brightest intellects gathered from every center of 
population in the United States, monopolized the 
lucrative practice of that young city. 

He concluded that if he had only his profession 
to depend upon while he was building up a practice, 
‘‘bread and butter” might even be a luxury diffi- 
cult to obtain. Wealthy patients were distrustful 
of inexperienced practitioners. Fortunately for 
him, he was in that easy state of circumstances 
when a man can drop one occupation and pick up 
another, or wait until something comes his way 
that suits his inclination and fancy. 

He was looking about for something to 
occupy his idle moments, when he made the ac- 
quaintance of Roy Banatyne. He listened to Ban- 
atyne’s extravagant idea about “ the great riches 
that could be dug from the bosom of mother earth 
with a cambric needle,” and concluded that he had 


54 


“ LADIES FIRST.” 


been a consummate ass to have wasted a whole year 
of precious time upon so tame a pursuit as pills 
and boluses. 

Banatyne was a self-made man, endowed with 
an abundance ol shrewdness, but wholly ignorant 
of book theories. He needed just such a man as 
Kelvyn, whose thorough education made him fully 
competent to guide him through many difficulties 
and complications ; who was accurate and expert 
in all office work, and above all unswerving in his 
fidelity to the interests of his benefactor. 

The Peerless had been on the market for several 
weeks. Kelvyn was a member of the Stock Ex- 
change, a seat having been bought for him by 
Banatyne for the bagatelle of $40,000, and he was 
generally believed to be Banatyne’s leading broker 
in the Board. He was instructed by Banatyne as 
to the manipulation of Peerless, which was, gen- 
erally, to sustain the market in any emergency 
that might arise. At first, the stock was held 
firmly ; few shares were offered for sale, although 
bids were numerous, and at higher prices than it 
had first been placed on the market ; the public 
were evidently “ coming in ” on the flood tide. 

The Peerless was stimulating Roy’s speculative 
tendency. Tricksie was busy with his heart inter- 
ests. La Belle had made deep inroads into his sus- 
ceptible nature, and Roy was seriously in love, 
perhaps, for the second time in his fitful life. 

Tricksie had sent several of her little notes to 
Kelvyn, asking him to honor her by calling, as 
she wished to excuse herself for her reckless talk 
on his former visit. Regrets” were the invari- 


LADIES FIRST. 


55 


( ( 


able and only answers. Kelvyn preferred to take 
no risks. Fire melts the hardest metals. 

One of the rose tinted missives attracted Bana- 
tyne's attention, as it lay on Kelvyn’s desk. ‘ It 
was as innocent within as without ; notwithstand- 
ing that fact, it caused an angry glance, and an 
unpleasant expression passed over Banatyne’s 
face as he thought “ More margins, I suppose. If 

he had no money she ” further thought was 

not expressed in words. 

In a few days, greater activity began upon the 
stock board, and Peerless seemed to be the special 
bone of contention. One lot of ten thousand 
shares was thrown upon the market, with evident 
orders to realize, and the stock broke a fraction, 
but recovered itself under prompt buying and 
again closed at an advance, which gave renewed 
confidence to Roy’s friends. It was a busy day 
for Kelvyn. At the close of the session he hur- 
ried to Banatyne. 

Say, Roy, don’t you think we had better real- 
ize a little? ” he said. Big profits. I’d be satis- 
fied and his eyes shone with frank and boyish 
delight. 

‘‘Not a share,” answered Banatyne. “ What 
do you take me for ? She’s only getting ready to 
start ; she’ll reach a hundred sure. Frozen fact,” 
and his eyes were averted from Kelvyn’s honest 
face. 

“ But hadn’t we better put ourselves on velvet ? 
continued Kelvyn, earnestly. The rapid pace was 
a little too hot for one of his slow going, medical 
methods. He had not yet been seasoned to his 


“ LADIES FIRST.” 


56 

new vocation. “ Now don’t talk like a big baby,” . 
laughed Banatyne, “ be more nervy ; stand firmly 
to your post, and buy every share offered within 
designated limits, you understand ? It’s the big- 
gest buy on the whole list, and I know what I am 
talking about.” 

The next day the stock was very irregular. It 
received blows that astounded the brokers. But 
a young man, known as Banatyne’s buyer, stood 
in the center 'of the floor, the object of their 
attacks when concerted movements were made to 
depress Peerless. He was flushed with excite- 
ment, and although the novice of the Stock 
Exchange, he seemed wide awake enough to meet 
all comers in the game, no matter what their 
peculiar tactics. It was quite evident that he was 
acting for the inside syndicate, and that his orders 
were practically unlimited. 

Of course, the syndicate had other brokers, 
filled evidently with cross orders, on the 
floor for emergencies and opportunities. But 
they all looked up to Kelvyn as their general di- 
rector, and a nod from him here and there meant 
obedience. There were disquieting rumors on the 
street that Banatyne had grossly exaggerated the 
value of Peerless, and that instead of producing 
pay ore at an early day assessments were more 
likely to be in order. 

Still it was a matter of surprise and comment 
that so much long ” stock should be gradually 
coming in. It looked as if some one was unload- 
ing, or that a masterly hand was directing the 
game of realization from under cover. 


“ LADIES FIRST.” 


57 


Orders poured in by speculators who had often 
before measured swords with Banatyne, to down 
him if possible, for if he had devoted friends and 
followers, he had also a small army of seared war- 
riors who were opposed to him, and were eager 
for a fray that promised profits, no matter at 
whose cost. If money was to be made by tearing 
down, they were ready to tear down, and rather 
liked the opportunity. 

Kelvyn noted the increasing boldness of the 
antagonistic elements, and when offers to sell 
in blocks of one thousand or more were made, 
he sprang to the center and met them all, 
restoring confidence in his owm ranks that began 
to look somewhat demoralized. He quickly 
dispatched a trusted messenger to Banatyne, 
announcing the new departure in the enemy's 
movements. Presently the mine promoter him- 
self appeared momentarily in the lobby of the 
Exchange, and gave Kelvyn a reassuring glance, 
and his bids became bolder and more aggressive. 
The day wore on until within half an hour of the 
close of the Exchange. Suddenly there was a 
murmur followed by a hasty eruption in the center 
of the floor, with cries of ‘‘ Peerless ! Peerless ! ” 
“ What’s offered for a thousand ? ” directed 
immediately at Kelvyn, who stood alert with eyes 
ablaze, every sense strained to a tension point. 
Valiantly he met the new onslaught with 
undaunted vigor. It was evident that some more 
recent and more alarming news had stimulated the 
new bear attack. The crowd of excited brokers 
surged around Kelvyn and fairly hurled their 


58 


LADIES FIRST. 


< < 


offers in his teeth faster than he could meet them. 
The lobby was crowded with a throng of men 
more excited than had been seen for many days. 
As they saw the tide apparently turning with 
resistless power, they eagerly called to their 
brokers, “ Sell a hundred more ! ” “ Sell a thou- 
sand, seller thirty ! ” There floated in the air a 
confused murmur: ‘‘ Only a prospect,” “ Pinched in 
the bottom,” ‘‘ Not worth a dollar a share on 
merit;” so say the experts. That was the drift 
that came to Kelvyn’s ears, and he faltered. His 
judgment called a halt — his orders, action. At 
that moment a leading broker thundered, “ Sell 
ten thousand, seller ninety,” at a price so far below 
the regular quotation that Kelvyn’s answer, 
‘‘ Take ’em,” in a hoarse voice, was unheard above 
the din, so great .was the confusion and turmoil. 
Thousands upon thousands of shares were offered 
at still lower prices. Kelvyn lost his senses, the 
rout was complete, and pandemonium reigned 
supreme until a few moments later, when the 
gong was heard announcing the end of the work 
of loss and gain for that eventful day. 

Panic knows no bounds. He rides ruthlessly 
over the fortunes of the erstwhile favorites of suc- 
cess, trampling them under feet with ghoulish 
glee. Those who an hour before were rich 
in Peerless stock found themselves practically 
ruined! Their shares had been closed out*‘ under 
the rules ” by their brokers the moment their 
margins were uncovered. Some hadn’t saved 
enough for a morning’s breakfast — many were on 
the verge of ruin. Such were the uncertainties 


‘‘ LADIES FIRST.*' 


59 


of stock speculation in those exciting days, and 
they are repeated even unto the present time in all 
the exchanges and bourses of the world. 

The Stock Exchange had closed. Where chaos 
had reigned an hour before was now silent as the 
grave. 

Kelvyn, pale, exhausted and broken in spirit, 
slowly found his way to his office. Friends he 
met were passed by without recognition. There 
was an absent, hunted look in his eyes. Nerving 
himself to the effort, he conferred with his clerks 
and summed up the day's operations. He had 
purchased thousands upon thousands of shares of 
Peerless at varying prices, the larger number for 
Banatyne and the syndicate. But for his own 
account and those of his friends, who relied upon his 
information and from whom he had discretionary 
orders based upon his advice, he had bought stock 
enough to swamp them all, including himself. 
Banatyne he knew could stand the blow. But 
Kelvyn himself had “ plunged," and on the strength 
of Banatyne's assurances, had invested not only 
his all, but sacrificed his mother’s little property 
as well. 

His friends, too, would be unable to meet 
their obligations, and, by the rules of the Board, 
he must make their accounts good to his fel- 
low brokers. The more he looked at the situa- 
tion, the worse it appeared. Mechanically, he 
wrote Banatyne a stereotyped notice : Bought 
for your account " so many shares of Peer- 
less, etc., and carried it to Banatyne’s office, 
thinking to confer with his chief on the situation, 


6o 


‘ LADIES FIRST.” 


but it was late and he found the office closed ; even 
the boys had gone home after the exciting day’s 
work. A few stragglers remained in the street, 
but their presence was unheeded. 

Not for a moment did he question even in 
thought Banatyne’s good faith. The break in 
Peerless, he concluded, was the result of 
a bear combination, which temporarily had won 
the day ; eventually those who held their stock 
would be rewarded by large profits, he doubted 
not. But he could not be one of these. He could 
not accept charity — not even from Banatyne. 

It was late when Kelvyn reached his home ; as 
he passed the door of his mother’s sleeping apart- 
ment, her soft voice asked : 

“ Is that you, James? ” 

Yes, mother,” he replied, his voice trembling 
with pity for that mother whom he fain would 
have taken in his arms and held there close against 
his heart for all time if that would have shielded 
her from the blow that he himself must deal her; 
if, by giving his life, he could have protected that 
loved one from the hardships of the poverty that 
his own recklessness had brought upon her, he 
would gladly have given up this existence. 

'‘ Good night, my darling boy,” she said. 

“ Good night, mother, dear,” he faltered, chok- 
ing down a sob while thoughts and emotions 
almost stifled his heart beats. 

Once within the privacy of his bedchamber he 
sank beneath the weight of woe that oppressed 
him. Seated in a chair with his head bowed 
heavily upon his chest, he took a retrospective 


LADIES FIRST.” 


6i 


view of his mother’s tender care of him in helpless 
babyhood ; her love and guidance through his 
boyhood ; her entire confidence in him since his 
manhood ; and what had been his return for such 
devotion ? Through him, she was homeless, com- 
forts she most needed in her decrepit old age 
must be denied her — through him she was a 
pauper. These thoughts maddened him ! 

He rose and in nervous trepidation walked the 
floor until his weary limbs refused him longer 
support. Then a heavy sigh broke from him as 
he threw himself upon the bed, his proud spirit 
crushed with sorrow for his aged mother, his self- 
condemnation harrowing his very soul. Sleep 
refused him even a minute’s relief. There he lay 
stretched motionless on the couch save for the 
shudder that now and then shook his frame. 
Away from the eyes of the world, the strong man 
wept like a child. 

Dawn follows the darkest night, and as day 
struggled through the windows gradually lighting 
up the surroundings, the pictures, the frescoes on 
the walls, the bright colors in the carpet, the 
shadows of the furniture, it fell upon the prostrate 
form of the unhappy Kelvyn as he had lain dur- 
ing the long hours in dejected and unchanged 
position. The day rolled on until all the busy life 
of that busy city was astir. 

After waiting patiently a half-hour for her son’s 
appearance at breakfast, Mrs. Kelvyn turned to 
the morning papers, still wondering why ‘‘Jamie ” 
slept so late, as he was always punctual and most 
courteous to her even in the smallest details of 


62 


“ LADIES FIRST.” 


life. Glancing at the morning news she was 
horror-stricken by the dramatic account, colored 
even more vividly than necessary, of: 

“DOWNFALL OF ‘THE PEERLESS’ 
AND JAMES KELVYN." 

“ It cannot be true,” she cried, and rushing to 
her son’s room she listened. Then came to her 
strained and anxious ears a sob that well nigh 
broke her heart. 

Bursting open the door she rushed wildly in 
still holding the paper in her hand, exclaiming : 
“ Oh, my son ! My boy ! My love ! tell me it is 
not true,” as she pointed to the flaming head- 
lines. 

Kelvyn leaped from his bed with pallid face and 
sunken, bloodshot eyes, and caught her to his heart, 
too deeply moved to speak. For one moment 
she lay on his breast ; then with frightened eyes 
and trembling voice and loving words, repeated : 
“ Tell me, my darling, that it is not true ! ” 

“ God forgive me, my sweet mother, it is true,” 
he sobbed as he tenderly drew her to the couch, 
with his arms still about her, her head still upon 
his breast. Gradually her head drooped lower, 
her body rested more heavily against him ; a low 
whisper, “ God protect you,” was sighed into his 
ear as her frail life went out. 

Then came days and nights of burning tears 
and bitter anguish, a never-tiring remorse sug- 
gesting to his conscience, “ Semi-murderer ! ” 
The air seemed stifling. 

“ Will my brain dwell forever on one subject? 


“ LADIES FIRST.” 


63 


silence answered him. Mechanically he took his 
hat and left his home. He was walking aim- 
lessly along Montgomery street when a friend 
who had also lost heavily in the “ Peerless ” deal 
accosted him with : 

Hello, Kelvyn, where are you going? ” 

“No place in particular,” Kelvyn answered 
absently. 

“ Been sick? ” asked his friend, as he noticed the 
great change in Kelvyn’s appearance. 

“ No,” sadly returned Kelvyn. 

“By jove, Banatyne played his game most 
unscrupulously. I tell you he is matchless in 
that sort of nerve,” went on his friend. 

“ What game ? ” asked Kelvyn, suddenly show- 
ing some interest. 

“ Why, haven’t you heard the talk of the street ? 
Everybody says Banatyne unloaded his stock in 
Peerless when it was at its highest figure, and on 
his best friends, too.” 

“ I refuse to believe him so base.” There was 
impatient discord in Kelvyn’s voice. 

“ Of course, you are at liberty to believe as you 
please. It’s very evident that you are not on to 
Roy’s little tricks. Why^ he’d break any man he 
ever had dealings with.” 

An angry gleam darted from Kelvyn’s eyes, the 
first awakening of a suspicion that Banatyne had 
played him false. 

“ Oh, yes, indeed,” went on his friend. “ You 
recollect that first ten thousand shares that were 
so suddenly thrown upon the board, and caused 


64 


LADIES FIRST. 


(( 


the first break? Well, they have been traced to 
him almost without a doubt ! ” 

Kelvyn’s hands clenched until his nails made 
imprints upon his palms. “ But in a business like 
this,” went on the unconscious agitator, “ people 
seem to forget all rules of honor, and the greater 
the theft, the more applauded is the thief. Good 
morning,” and the friend went on his way, not 
dreaming that he had started a fire of anger the 
flame of which would be ruthless in its might. 

Kelvyn quickened his steps and lengthened his 
strides. He had an object in view now. His teeth 
were set like a mastiff’s. His features were rigid 
in their coldness. His brain throbbed. Hurry 
as he would, it seemed to him that he moved only 
at a snail’s pace. He saw neither persons nor 
things, but rushed blindly along to meet his former 
friend. He arrived at Banatyne’s office in a state 
of mind bordering upon lunacy. Without cere- 
mony, or pause, he entered, as if fearful he might 
falter in his resolve. He had a claim to settle with 
this man ; not only a money claim, but he held 
that Banatyne was accessory to his mother’s 
death, and he wanted it over with, quickly. 

Banatyne was in a cheery mood. Hello> 
Prince James, where have you been all this time? 
you look like the ghost of yourself,” he said, his 
good-natured face radiant with his sunniest smile. 

One word with you, Mr. Banatyne,” was the 
cold reply. Banatyne left his group of friends, 
and approached Kelvyn. 

“ I am here, Mr. Banatyne, to ask a contradiction 
from your own lips of the report on the street. 


LADIES FIRST. 


6s 


( ( 


Did you unload your Peerless stock on the mar- 
ket, and when it was at its highest price ?” bluntly 
asked Kelvyn, his frame trembling, and his face 
flushed with a frenzied delirium. Kelvyn’s man- 
ner was so imperious, so threatening, that Bana- 
tyne momentarily staggered. Had he been ap- 
proached in a more friendly manner, his reception 
would have been different. He might then have 
explained, as he did to the satisfaction of more 
credulous friends, that the slump in Peerless was 
caused by the treachery of one of his own syndi- 
cate who, having withdrawn a big block of pool 
stock for alleged collateral purposes, had secretly 
thrown it upon the market. Kelvyn’s tone irri- 
tated him, and he answered: 

I hardly think I am bound to answer your 
question as to my business methods,” and he half 
turned away, a sneer usurping the place of the 
old-time smile. 

Kelvyn was heedless as to smile or sneer, but 
proceeded directly with the question he wished 
settled. 

“ Were you the one who broke the market 
while advising your friends to buy, and beggared 
me and hundreds of others? If so, you are a 
mean, contemptible thief.” They were dauntless 
words, spoken fearlessly, as he flung the hair out 
of his eyes with a gesture of impatient anger. 

Now, you’re talking damned nonsense,” said 
Banatyne, g^iving way to indignant anger ; and 
he continued : “ I have my opinion of a man who 
' squeals ’ when a ' deal ’ doesn’t go his way.” 

And I have my opinion of a man who cannot 


66 


LADIES FIRST. 


defend his record and answer straightforward 
questions. I was as weak as water in your hands. 
You did me favors, gratitude for which bent my 
neck, and you placed your foot upon it and kept 
me your slave, but your favors were all for a pur- 
pose, you soulless scoundrel! You had use for an 
honest man to further your dishonest, ends.” 
Kelvyn was in a dangerous mood. The storm of 
hot and bitter words came thick and fast, as poi- 
soned arrows from savages’ quivers. '' My mother’s 
death I lay at your door.” He hissed the words, 
and the veins on his forehead stood out like whip- 
cords, while his frame and voice quivered with 
ungovernable rage. 

When Kelvyn spoke of his mother’s death, 
Banatyne’s face blanched. The wrecks of fortunes 
had often been laid at his door, but Kelvyn’s 
accusation was more serious and far-fetching. 

“You talk like a madman,” Banatyne said ; and 
he continued in a mellowed voice : “You shan’t 
lose a cent, Kelvyn. What are you worrying 
about?” 

“ Will you tell that to all the paupers your 
doubled-faced scheming and treachery has 
made? Can you bring back my mother to me?” 
asked Kelvyn, and his eyes flashed fiercely and 
glared and glistened with a yellow light, like a 
tiger about to seize its prey. Banatyne cowered 
before the strapping young athlete who looked 
most powerful in his wrath and sorrow. 

Then in a moment Kelvyn’s passion went 
beyond his control. The insanity of rage made 
him oblivious to every human feeling and before 


“ LADIES FIRST.” 67 

friends could intervene he struck Banatyne a blow 
that felled the minq promoter to the floor, whei^ 
he lay all in a heap. “He is dead!” excitedly 
shouted one of his friends, “and by all that’s sac- 
red, his death shall be avenged ! ” and he rushed 
for an officer of the law ; but not quicker than 
Kelvyn’s friends hurried him away, for he was in 
an irresponsible, nervous condition and could be 
led by any master hand. 

The Sacramento boat was within a few minutes 
of its starting hour. They took Kelvyn aboard, 
gave him a sleeping potion, and in less than fifteen 
minutes after he had struck down Banatyne he 
was steaming away up the Sacramento river, and 
would awake the following morning to find him- 
self alone in a strange place, with a troubled con- 
science and shattered hopes. 


68 




LADIES FIRST. 


CHAPTER VI. 

THE PET OF GOLD GULCH. 

The sound of sturdy men’s voices singing, 
above which the bird-like notes of a girl rang out 
and echoed and re-echoed through Rock Canon, 
in the great mountain range of the Sierra Neva- 
das, until one listening could easily have imag- 
ined a chorus of human beings mocked by the 
mysterious creatures of Spiritland. A thousand 
voices sang back the song, prolonging the last 
notes until they died away in trembling whispers ; 
then the gay laugh of the girl, contagious for the 
men, was perfectly imitated by the echo-voices, 
and the people of two worlds seemed happy in 
chorus. Coming nearer, the words of their rol- 
licking song were easily distinguished : 

“ We miners are men of pluck, 

With pick and pan, with pick and pan, 

We go to try our luck, 

With pick and pan. 

With pick and pan. 

We dig up the yellow gold 
In weather warm or cold. 

And then our fortune’s told 
With pick and pan, 

With pick and pan. ” 

With — pick — a-n-d — p-a-n — died away in the 
echo-voices of the invisible imitators. Before the 
mysterious singers had finished their mocking a 


LADIES FIRST. 


69 


( ( 

group of four jolly comrades appeared upon the 
top of a rough and rocky eminence ; a fifth might 
have been included did not deference to the other 
characters forbid, for he was only a little burro, 
and, although a good and faithful friend, caste 
excludes him from the human order of beings. 
Fie was being led by one of three men, and seated 
upon his back was another figure. 

This figure elevated to such distinction might 
have been sortie mountain deity or spirit. To 
the ordinary beings of this earth it bore no partic- 
ular likeness. Whether man, woman or child, at 
that distance, mortal eye could not discern. The 
manner of sitting on the burro was man-like ; the 
flapping abbreviated material that covered the 
upper part of the limbs was child-like ; the full 
round voice was almost woman-like. 

Up the slope this group of figures stood out 
like a living picture against a background sky of 
brilliant colors, the usual last effort of a dying, 
glorious day. 

“ The mountains, huge, shapeless, and solemn," 
the dazzling snow which was the perpetual cover- 
ing of their summits, the irregular rocks jutting 
out in fantastic shapes, black by contrast, made a 
picture, the grandeur of which could be produced 
only by the brush of the great artist. Nature. 

The men walked leisurely along, while the little 
burro picked his steps warily over the jagged and 
stony surface, stepping cautiously over huge 
boulders of rock, not even losing his footing when 
he trod upon small, loose rolling stones. Now, 
the quintet appeared upon an elevation, then 


70 


“ LADIES FIRST.” 


disappeared from view, to reappear within the 
range of vision, only in a few moments to be lost 
again ; and so they descended the rough mountain 
trail through the gorge, until they reached the 
ravine, where progress was easier. . The group 
was within a short distance of the mining camp 
known as Gold Gulch ; and as the burro, like his 
kind, was not inclined to hurry, they made slow 
progress toward their home. 

Gold Gulch had been planted on the slope of a 
mountain, a spot with fantastic and uneven surface, 
without vegetation or growth save the hardy 
pines that seemed to say to each other, “We will 
grow to delight the eye of man, and no stress of 
weather or lack of soil shall down, us.” Bless 
their sturdy, humane shelter ! Their equally oblig- 
ing twin sister, born of Mother Nature, was the 
swift stream of water which rushed down from the 
mountains and flowed straight through the camp. 
This water would have been as clear as a minis- 
ter’s conscience, had it not been aiding, farther up 
the mountains, to segregate the little golden nug- 
gets from their home nest in Earth’s breast, thereby 
making its ripples as yellow as the gold it cleansed. 

In the foreground stood a plain one-story house 
constructed of unpainted yellow pine shingles, 
upon which “ Amador Hotel ” in bold characters 
was conspicuous ; also, “ Post Office,” “ Adams’ 
Express,” Gold Dust Bought,” “ Picks and Pans 
for Sale,” were painted with the tar that had 
never dreamed of being raised from the wagon 
axle-tree to such literary distinction. In 
fact, this main edifice was a regular “Pooh 


LADIES FIRST.” 7 1 

Bah” of an institution — the Waldorf of Gold 
Gulch, without the luxury of sofa cushions 
and the effective light of Oriental lamps ; and 
accordingly held its head high in mighty scorn of 
its more lowly neighbors surrounding and adja- 
cent. 

These were numerous log huts and cabins 
with doors swung on leathern hinges ; windows 
were an unknown quantity, so there was no other 
opening for the light of day or the oxygen of life 
than these doors. The outer walls were decorated 
with pan, pick and other utensils useful to the 
seeker of gold in his business ; the owner’s epi- 
curean taste was proclaimed by the quantity of 
“jerked beef” which hung upon the side of his 
residence. 

His laundry usually occupied a nail in juxta- 
position with his provender, and was decorated 
with stripes of the water’s mud color. As there 
was not a flat-iron within miles around, and 
as he was his own laundress, the miner didn’t find 
fault with his blanchisseuse for not polishing his 
linen, or for the absence of buttons that had with- 
out permission gone off to a picnic ; the ghastly 
efforts to arrange a neck- tie were forgotten men- 
aces to his reason, and a collar button couldn’t 
lord it over him, by flying under a bureau or down 
an invisible mouse-hole. 

His boots could collect all the real estate they 
deemed profitable without complaint from him, and 
if his razor acted as if it needed a rest it was granted, 
as if two or three days’ growth was a matter 
of no importance ; and so, without the influence 


72 


LADIES FIRST. 




of woman’s scrutinizing eyes, independent man is 
apt to retrograde into an uncivilized state. 

Men were standing in groups, or lounging on the 
porch of the hotel — white men in red flannel 
shirts, their rough trousers tucked in high-topped 
cowhide boots ; Chinese in dark blue cotton 
blouses, pajamas, wooden clog shoes and broad- 
brimmed, plaited straw hats that made them look 
like huge animated walking mushrooms. Some 
were in stooping position beside the stream, busy 
washing out pan after pan of earth, selecting there- 
from bits of gold, or shining masqueraders of the 
valuable metal, which disappointments were 
thrown back into the stream with some show of 
impatience, coupled with well-rounded oaths. 

The four returning prospectors were almost 
within the limits of the camp, so near that one 
could hear the jingle of the mining implements 
which hung from the sides of the little burro, as 
also the voice of his human freight. 

“ I tell you. Captain Jim, these hur are fine ore 
specimens, or I don’t know nothin’ ’bout mines ; 
no porphyry ’bout these hur rocks,” said the figure 
in a girl’s voice, handling the ore like a mining 
expert. 

“Yes, I think we’ve struck something rich in 
this prospecting trip,” answered Kelvyn. 

Two years had elapsed since the events narrated 
in the preceding chapter, during which time 
Kelvyn had been in reality a P.M. (Practical Miner). 
On his arrival in the camp, his “ biled shirt ” and 
fashionably-cut clothes, his delicate hands and his 
city-made complexion, his delicious aroma of 


LADIES FIRST. 


73 


( i 


refinement and generally up-to-date appearance- 
were a sort of “ Peach BIoav Vase ’’ elegance that 
the miners thought should be placed in a glass 
case and kept as a priceless relic of far - away 
civilization ; but when he put aside his first-class 
toggery and appeared in the regulation miner’s 
outfit, and even eclipsed old-timers in his indiffer- 
ence for “store clothes,” and wielded the pick 
with a vim that brought blisters to his white 
hands ; when his skin became bronzed by the sun 
and weather until he was as hardy and as tough 
as a pine cone ; when his face had been unvexed by 
a razor for two years * when he washed , his own 
shirt and patched his own trousers, he was taken 
by the hand and recognized as a brother miner. 

His manly honor, his gracious bearing, his ten- 
derness to those in distress, soon made him the 
favorite of the camp, not to mention the influence of 
his handsome face, which, strong-minded as people 
may be, is always a “ drawing card,” and helped 
make James Kelvyn that which he was, the auto- 
crat of Gold Gulch. “ Captain Jim was his title 
there, instead of “ Prince James,” as in the days of 
his luxuries on Pine Street ; and had he been asked 
which title he preferred, he would quickly have 
accepted the former. 

He was the biggest one of this particular group, 
and that is giving him a great deal of material, 
for they were all large men, except Tattie, who 
wasn’t a man a:t all. Captain Jim called out to the 
little burro, in a voice so full of refined melody 
that a New York belle might long to hear it again : 

“ Whoa, Bruiser ; you’ve done good work. A 


74 


“ladies first.” 


little slow, but always to be relied upon. Here, 
Barney, take the fiery steed and give him the best 
menu the camp affords.” Captain Jim had a way 
of talking to the little burro, thinking, perhaps, he 
understood him about as well as many of his asso- 
ciates in the “ diggings.” The man to whom he 
spoke looked puzzled, scratched his headland 
answered : 

“ Begorra, I tried him on that maynoo once, as 
ye call it, and Bruiser didn’t take to it at all, at all. 
Be aisy now. I’ll give him a bit o’ hay, if it’s all 
thersame to yez.’’ 

By this time the girl, for girl she proved to be 
at close range, had sprung from Bruiser’s back, 
picked up each little hoof as dexterously as a belle 
would lift a lace handkerchief, a familiarity that 
the men would not have dared (for Bruiser 
brooked no familiarity about his hind legs, except 
from the kindly hand that he knew so well), took 
therefrom the stones or whatever was foreign to 
to those tough little hoofs, wiped them off with the 
tag end of her torn frock, patted his rough, little 
coat, smoothed his long ears and actually kissed 
the little beast, murmuring in his elongated sound- 
catcher : 

“ You love Tattie, don c you, Bruiser?” in such 
a wooing way, and the sound of the voice was so 
agreeable, that one could scarcely believe that it 
came from this nondescript of patches and tatters. 
She was older than her very abbreviated frock 
would indicate— at least fifteen years had passed 
since she had first opened her baby eyes upon the 
light of this world. She had evidently outgrown 


LADIES FIRST. 


75 


u 


her skirt ; it reached only a little below the knee, 
and was of some light cotton material, freckled 
with large red polka dots, and no one could pos- 
sibly regret that it was in the last stage of rags. 

Her well-formed limbs were covered by soiled 
^ white stockings, one of which had a rent from 
the knee half-way down the ankle and through 
which her flesh shone pink, without the slightest 
blush of embarrassment on her part ; the other 
hung down over her foot, without the least distress 
to its wearer, the gear that held it in adjustment hav- 
ing lost its fastening, but Tattie didn’t seem to miss 
it. A miner’s sunburnt, red flannel shirt, opened 
at the throat for lack of buttons, torn at the elbow, 
patched on the back with a contrasting color, 
covered that part of her body which an opera dress 
in the city usually neglects. 

A large sombrero, such as the Mexican greaser 
wore, was pulled down over Jier head until it 
rested upon her ears, to baffle the efforts of the wind 
to blow it off ; her feet were encased in moccasins, 
to which were frequently attached spurs which 
she used without stint when subduing a “ buck- 
ing mustang,” but which were never required 
when Bruiser was the steed of burden and respon- 
sibility. 

As if wearied of so much finery, she took off 
her hat and hung it on the most convenient place 
at hand — the ground. Even in her ragged and 
semi-savage state she was a beauty — as brown as 
an autumn leaf, as wild as a rabbit, but, when her 
fancy was attracted, as loving and trustful as a 
faithful dog, to which no other tried devotion can 


76 


LADIES FIRST. 


n 


be compared. Her complexion was of that creamy 
olive that bespoke the Spanish blood of her 
mother, and which no out-door exposure could 
spoil. Her eyes, dark, large and lustrous, 
fringed with silken curling lashes, were also 
the inheritance of her Spanish mother. A laugh- 
ing mouth, with the whitest of teeth ; her features, 
although still in the chubby state of pretty child- 
hood, were the embryo of the beautiful woman 
into which she was before very long to mature. 

Her hair must have resembled that of the pater- 
nal side, for it was a sunny blonde, and had always 
been kept short until recently it had been allowed 
to grow and had attained a length of about four 
inches. It was tightly braided and tied with white 
rag strings, each little braid standing straight out 
from the back of her head, and every motion 
waved the white rags like diminutive flags of truce. 

Her figure, for one so young, might have made 
the corseted and distorted city belle drop her 
artificial encasements, don a miner’s shirt, ride 
burros and mustangs, swing picks and take long 
tramps over the mountains ; for these health-giv- 
ing, developing athletics had given the uncon- 
scious Tattie a figure that artists would have 
delighted to copy — but there were no artists in 
Gold Gulch. The miners bent upon the object 
that brought them so far from home and friends, 
‘‘ across the plains,'’ dug and delved for the pre- 
cious; and if Captain Jim sometimes noticed 
this specimen of budding young womanhood, 
it was with a purely platonic interest, and with 
pity that the child could not be sent to school. 


‘‘ladies first.” 


77 


It had* been her custom to accompany the 
miners in their prospecting tours ever since she 
was a wee mite of five years, and was considered 
by those honest fellows the mascot of their for- 
tune-hunting trips. She answered to the soubri- 
quet “Tattie,” derived from tatters, which wa§ 
the chronic state of her wearing apparel. She 
had no memory of any place but this same mining 
camp ; no knowledge of any subject but mines ; 
no affection for any one but her mother and the 
miners ; and so Tattie grew up, with no thought 
of circumstances, consequences nor proprieties. 
She had come with her mother to Gold Gulch from 
Dogtown, a mining settlement many miles distant, 
when but an infant, and her mother had married 
Denhardt Lutner shortly after her arrival in camp. 
Tattie loved her step-father — with the affection 
that they say Satan feels for a saint, and the feel- 
ing was evidently warmly reciprocated. 

Another member of the group was Barney 
Ryan, a jovial, cheery, young Irishman, who, 
when his effervescent good humor was about to 
run over, would dance the “ Barn Door Jig,” 
which he did well, or sing “ Patrick’s Day in the 
Morning,” which he did badly ; and when his 
humor was at low tide would thrash Lutner, 
which he did admirably. 

The last of the party was “ Big Sam ” Williams, 
who, in the days of his prosperity and influence, 
was a bouncer at one of San Francisco’s principal 
hotels, but his modestv forbade ever referring to 
that erstwhile exalted position ; and if, occasionally, 
he used Lutner as an objective exhibit of his re- 


78 


LADIES FIRST. 


maining athletic powers, it was only to convince 
people of the thorough manner in which the 
bouncer had performed the duties of his whilom 
office when in full swing. 

Lutner was a mean, contemptible apology for a 
man. He wouldn’t have deserved sympathy it 
he had received any, which he didn’t. When he 
first married, his business profession was to com- 
plain in piteous tones of the great struggle to sup- 
port his wife and stepchild, and borrow from 
everybody in the place for the ostensible purpose 
of purchasing “ bread and butter,” and as he 
seemed to forget the honorable process of ever 
returning those sums, rather increasing the obli- 
gations whenever opportunity favored him, and 
as his weakly little wife bought the “ bread and 
butter” herself with the hard-earned money that 
her washing for some of the miners brought her, 
he lost caste with those who knew him, rapidly. 

His unkind treatment of his wife and stepchild 
made him hated and despised. His shiftless and 
lazy indifference to the responsibilities of life 
caused him to be treated with utter contempt. 
When he felt inclined he could be plausible and 
quite gentlemanly in demeanor, but these evi- 
dences of a better nature were at rare intervals. 
He could also quote the classics by the yard. He 
was evidently a case of misplaced birth, fostered 
by education. He was not a “ bold, bad man,” 
but a sneaky bad man, which is much the worse 
type. He was of medium height, black hair, 
beard and eyes, and would not have been 
so bad-looking but for a scar, that extended 


LADIES FIRST. 


79 


( ( 


almost across his left cheek, and which, 
when he smiled, moved upward like a magnified 
crow’s-foot, as if determined to point out the sin- 
ister expression of his eyes. He might just as well 
have had a card tied around his neck labeled 
“ Villain! ” 


8o 


“ LADIES FIRST. 


CHAPTER VII. 

THE BOSS CLAIM. 

Other miners soon joined the group, and in- 
tently examined the specimens that these partic- 
ular prospectors had brought ; viewing the rock 
under magnifying-glasses, testing its value with 
chemicals and horn spoons, in which latter pro- 
cedure Tattie was one of the most expert and 
interested. 

Oh, I tell you, I know good rock from bad,’^ 
she laughed ; these are some sample chunks as 
we found away up on the divide, jest where Dead 
Man’s Hill comes across Last Year’s Gulch. My ! 
but we went a long tramp to-day, didn’t we, boys ?” 
and a great sigh escaped her, as if to rest her tired 
little body. 

Yes, away beyond our usual stamping ground ” 
Kelvyn assented. That there ledge cropped out 
three-quarters of a mile, didn’t it. Big Sam ? ” Tattie 
first affirmed, and then questioned. 

“ As plain as kin be, oh, she’s a stayer, she is ! ” 
replied “ Big Sam,” with the proud air of a man 
who thought his opinion was worth something. 

“ Here, let me put some of this red, decomposed 
stuff under the glass again,” said Kelvyn, and after 
examining it critically, he exclaimed : Whew ! 
If there is much of this kind of ore in the ledge 
it’s worth a kingdom ! ’ 


LADIES FIRST. 


8l 




Barney Ryan added value to the prospect by 
saying, Be aisy, now,” as he closely examined 
another piece. “ Faith, shure, look at this wan, 
byes ; it’s purtier nor a speckled pig,” and Big 
Sam Williams sent its worth up into just as many 
millions as these hard-working fortune-hunters 
could crave by assuring them that it was 
“ reg’lar, chawed rosin, the real stuff stickin’ out all 
over it,” he declared ; and, continuing to scrutinize 
the rock, “Well, I’ll be blowed,” he cried, and 
then asked : “ Did you ever see such likely lookin’ 
quartz in all your born days ? And whar thet kim 
from, thar’s more — heaps more— you can jest bet 
your store clo’es on thet.” 

By way of emphasis, he slapped Lutner, who 
was listening to every word, on the back with 
such force that it sent that worthy ten feet beyond, 
hearing distance. Then Barney Ryan took from 
his pocket a specimen sample, and exclaimed : 
“ Here’s a piece of float I picked up down i’ th’ 
Gulch, just this soide o’ Hangtown. Faith, an’ if 
I was as full o’ poteen as this is o’ gowld, oi’d say 
dooble, and cudn’t wark strate.” 

Tattie, pleased because she knew the miners 
were happy — she hadn’t the slightest knowledge 
of the value of money herself— said : “ My souls, 
boys, but you have been awfully lucky to-day.” 
“ You've been,” repeated Kelvyn; “ what’s the mat- 
ter with yourself? I want you to understand, 
Tattie, that our luck is your luck, and that we 
put you down in every claim we locate.” 

Tattie was wise enough to know that this was 
meant for a kindness, but how it was ever going 


82 


LADIES FIRST. 


to benefit her in the least she failed to under- 
stand. A pretty blush spread over the girl’s face, 
and gratitude, or lack of polish, frightened away the 
thank you ’* that she had a vague thought the 
unexpected announcement deserved. 

“ Did you locate that hill ledge. Captain Jim?’’ 
asked Big Sam. 

“ Yes, I located it, and who do you suppose I 
put in as sole owner ? ” 

As if with one voice, the miners shouted,, “Why, 
the pet o’ the camp, our Tattie, o’ course.” 

“You guess right every time,” Kelvyn replied. 
“I called it the Boss Claim, and its sole owner on 
the record is D. B. Lutner — that’s our Tattie^ 
you know, and if written out would spell Dolores 
B. Lutner, but D. B. Lutner is a long enough 
name for such a little body,” and he patted 
Tattle’s blonde-covered head in a fatherly way. 
“ By the way, Sam, here are all the locations we 
made to-day ; just you run over to the Record- 
er’s office in Adams & Co.’s and have them regu- 
lary filed and recorded.” 

Lutner, who had returned from his involuntary 
send-off, was again sneaking around, listening to 
the talk, as he always did, when prospectors 
returned for the evening. Something in Kelvyn’s 
remark must have pleased him, for his Satanic 
smile made his eyes glitter — those eyes that flat- 
tered themselves that they concealed the bad quality 
of his soul, into which they were the only peep- 
holes ; but the mask was always torn away by 
the alert and tell-tale scar, which never forgot the 
duty imposed upon it. 


LADIES FIRST. 


83 


( < 


> > 


My reg’lar Sunday, go-to-meetin’ name,” said 
Tattie. Why, nobody could tell by that if I was 
a girl or boy, could they?” Tattie, in her 
inmost soul, had always regretted that she had 
not been born a boy. She thought it would have 
been much easier to be a boy than a girl. Some- 
how, girl’s ways were so different from hers. She 
had n^ver had a girl child for a companion, but 
some kind friend once gave her a doll, and told 
her all nice little girls played with dolls. That 
inanimate baby was never a comfort to Tattie. A 
kite, a top or a ball was much preferred. 

Action was as necessary for her rugged indi- 
viduality as the oxygen she breathed. She had 
always gone by her stepfather’s name. The 
miners had told her it was not her name, but a 
thing so unimportant did not trouble Tattie. If 
sometimes Kelvyn felt curious to know whether 
she was the offspring of wedlock or the result 
of an affaire du coeur^ there was no way by 
which this curiosity could be appeased. In a 
mining camp, 'social differences are forgotten. 
There is no gossip as to “who is who,” “ which 
is which,” and “ what is what.” The doctrine 
of social equality is really a practice, not a 
theory. 

The miners, evidently satisfied that a rich claim 
had been discovered, congratulated Kelvyn and 
his companions (Tattie included) upon their good 
luck, and, asking To be advised of the thorough 
assays of the samples, dispersed to their several 
occupations or rather idlenesses, for the darken- 
ing shadows of evening were settling over the 


84 


“ladies first.” 


camp. After dark, all work was tabooed. 
Another day was done. 

Tattle took from an unused miner’s gold-rocker, 
which was her library, wherein she had stored 
old magazines, torn books and scraps of news- 
papers, one of her literary treasures, and was try- 
ing to pick out by the fast disappearing twilight 
the letters, which, by the most brilliant light, 
were not familiar to her, when a voice asked, in 
soft Spanish cadence. 

“ Are you trying to learn by the waning light, . 
Dolores? ” Her mother always called her by her 
pretty Spanish name, and the girl answered back 
in a language which was a mixture of rough Eng- 
lish and dulcet Spanish : 

“ Siy mi madrey and these hyur letters all 
look the same to me, dizzy, funny, little black 
specs, up and down, and a kind o’ sideways, but 
I’m a-goin’ to tackle ’em.” Her mother under- 
stood English, but seldom attempted to speak it. 

“ I do not think you learn good English in the 
camp — only the coarse sayings of the miners,” 
replied her mother, in her soft, rolling Spanish 
tones. “ Captain Kelvyn told me you should go to 
school and you will become una sefiorita consumada'' 

“ Oh, madre mia ! ” ejaculated the girl, and she 
threw her arms caressingly about her mother’s 
neck. Amor mioy' 2iXvdi she kissed her mother’s 
pretty black hair in her ecstasy of delight. 

Her love for her mother was most profound, 
intensified because that dear little mother, the only 
blood relationship she had ever known on earth, 
was a frail little body, not so tall as Tattie, and 


“ladies first.” 


85 


whom the girl could take in her strong, young arms 
and actually carry about. Her constant disputes 
with her ill-natured husband, defending Tattie 
against his unjust attacks, told upon her physical 
constitution, and she had other pains and heart- 
aches that she did not tell, even to Tattie. 

“ Sij muchachita^' said the mother, fondly, though 
with a sad cadence in her weak voice, “ you will 
start to school as soon as Captain Kelvyn receives 
an answer from his letter which he sent to the 
convent, and which should not be more than three 
days coming.” 

The girl’s delight was radiant in every feature. 
“ Oh, mimadre, me gusta mucho^' she cried ; then she 
fell into the miners’ slang, “ Ain’t that just scrum ? 
It’ll come killin’ hard to leave you and this dear old 
camp and all the thumpin’ big hearts of the miners ; 
but I hanker after learnin’, mi madre, since Captain 
Jim has told me so much about books and music, 
and great people, born as we are, made as we are, 
but who know so much more than we do. Even if I 
do get to be a polished lady,” and she stopped, and 
for an instant pondered — “yes, ‘polished,’” she 
repeated, “ that’s what Captain Jim called it. I 
needn’t be so shiny that I won’t know all the dear 
critters.” 

“ Dolores, esciicha me^' replied the mother. 
“ Scrum and critters,” she repeated after her daugh-, 
ter, but with such a comical effort to suit the Span- 
ish tongue to the English slang, and with such an 
irresistibly funny pronunciation, that Tattie’s joy- 
ous and amused laugh rang through the place like 
riotous music. 


86 


LADIES FIRST. 


( < 


Don’t come it English, ini madre. I like you 
better in Spanish,” advised Tattie, with a patron- 
izing air that human nature forces upon a child 
when she arrives at fifteen and is taller than her 
mother. 

“You must wait till I get to be a top-lofty 
young lady, madre 'mia\ when I’m harnessed up in 
fine feathers. I’ll come it this dodge,” and Tattie 
picked up her ragged skirt with an uncultured 
daintiness and strutted off with native grace like 
a semi-barbaric peacock. Her movements soon 
graduated into wild and agile steps ; the numerous 
rents in her adjusted stocking were forgotten, and 
her dislocated stocking was forgiven, as the tatters 
of her frock moved with the night breeze, and her 
truly graceful poses, like the accordion plaits of a 
well-trained danseuse. 

As if her conscience was irritated by the sem- 
blance of pride, she pantingly embraced her 
mother, pressed her flushed young cheek 
against her cold face, saying : “No, no, mi madre 
I didn’t mean that ; I wouldn’t give a blind 
Chinaman for store clothes,” and still rubbing her 
ruddy cheek wooingly against the colorless face of 
her mother, like the young of some dumb animal, 
gathering every fragment of affection, she asked, 
with a strange tremor in her usually steady voice, 
“ When did you say I’d pull up stakes, mi madre ? ” 
The thought of parting from her mother made her 
manner so tender, so gentle, that one would 
scarcely have recognized in this clinging, affection- 
ate child the Tattie of the mountains; she who 
at times Would break a bucking mustang, catch a 


LABIES first. 


87 


(( 


steer with a lasso, hit an antelope with a bullet, 
sling a pick like a miner, and many other accom- 
plishments not taught in a young ladies’ fashion- 
able boarding school. 

Tears were in her voice when she murmured: 
“ So soon ? My heart’s just thumping right up in 
my throat,” she half sobbed ; “ I know the big 
tears will come, when t have to say — have to say’’ 
— she faltered — ^‘good-by — to — to — ” Her 
voice was silenced by emotion ; her head sank 
upon her mother’s shoulder, and Tattie wept. 

The child had been taught by the miners that 
tears were a display of weakness, “just like a 
girl.” Tattie felt very like a girl, and a very little 
girl, at that moment, and apologized to herself for 
such a departure from her usual rules of thought. 

Her mother caressed her affectionately. “ You 
will not be away so very long, Dolores. I will go 
to see you often, and you shall come home every 
vacation. 

“ You are getting too old to run wild. Captain 
Kelvyn says.” Kelvyn’s opinion generally settled 
things in Gold Gulch. 

“ Think of the beautiful books you will be able 
to read,” continued the consoling mother, “and 
the music you will learn.” 

“5f, sty mi madrey' sobbed Tattie, “ but I’m sad 
to leave you.” 

“ Hush, hush, muchachitay' soothingly replied 
the sorry little mother, as she kissed her darling’s 
tears away. 

“Everybody says.I’m wild. I’m afraid I’ll give 
the good teachers a lot o’ trouble, mi madre^ 


88 


"LADIES FIRST. 


i i 


99 


“ You do the best you can, Dolores,” was the 
mother’s answer. 

Si, mi madrc, I’ll try to do just like the other 
ones. They’ll want to keep me in, won’t they, mi 
madre} Oh, I know they will,” she went on, as 
if aghast at anticipated prison walls. 

“You know, mi madre, 1 never come in, only to 
sleep: I couldn’t sleep -if I hadn’t the air all day 
long. I’ll be all scrowged up.” That word 
“ scrowged,” which was of Tattie’s own coinage, 
meant cramped, or crowded. “ I like the great 
big sky, with all the bright colors. I like the 
broad land, the high, black and gray mountains,” 
she aded, as her eyes took sweeping glances, and 
her arms swayed in expanded gestures of the 
freedom of her life and home. “ But I’ll try to 
stay in the house. I’ll try to be good, mi madrej' 
and then she had a comforting cry. 

Her sobbing ceased, and, as if in a rhapsody, 
she murmured, looking wistfully in her mother’s 
eyes: Oh, mi madre, I think I’ll love music;” 

and then, with a sudden flash of determina- 
tion, she added : “ And you can jest bet your 
last pinch o’ gold dust I’ll stick to it closer ’n 
Bruiser does to hay. I’ve never heard any music 
’cept Big Sam’s jew’s-harp, but, do you know, mi 
madre," and a dreamy look stole into her soft 
eyes, “ I can listen to the singin’ o’ the birds all 
day long ; and the water a-droppin’ from that old 
flume there — well, all sounds ’round here is just 
bang-up music to me. Do you know, mi madre 
I’ve been takin’ lessons from the birds, and 
this is the way the red-breast goes,” and she 


“ladies first.” 


89 


threw back her head, and whistled to the stars 
that were just beginning to assemble, and were a 
fitting audience for such heavenly sounds, notes 
that the birds, those little feathery songsters, 
would have split their dear little windpipes had 
they tried to imitate them. 

Wild, sweet, harmonious melodies ! 

The mother was listening with maternal admi- 
ration when the sweet commune of mother and 
child was rudely disturbed by Lutner, who, in 
coarsest tones, growled : 

“ Loafing around as usual, eh ? If you were a 
boy Fd put you to work, but, being a girl, you are 
fit for nothing but cuddling in your mother’s 
arms and eating what little money I can earn.” 

At the first sound of his voice Tattie arose, 
deliberately folded her arms, and faced him, 
while the poor wife sat as if exhausted by the 
constant occurrence of these scenes. 

“’Tain’t none o’ your business if I’m a girl. 
You ain’t none o’ my father — is he, now, madre^' 
she said, turning to her mother. 

“ Get along there,” he commanded, but the girl 
did not budge. “ Get along there, I tell you,” he 
repeated, “ out of my sight.” 

The girl kept her post, gazing at him with such 
a dare-devil of an expression darting from her 
angry eyes that a stronger man than Denhardt 
Lutner miglit have quailed. 

“ If you wasn’t my mother’s husband,” she 
hissed between her clenched teeth, “ Fd make a 
target of you at short range, so I would,” and she 
clutched the rifle, which was never far from her 


90 


^‘ladies first.” 


side ; but her mother took the weapon, without 
the girl’s noticing the action, so intently was her 
gaze fixed upon the object of her deadly hatred. 

“ There’s one thing,” she continued, as her 
Spanish eyes half closed with a leer upon her 
step-father, “ I’ll always thank heaven for, and that 
is that you ain’t my real father. Why, if I thought 
’at one drop o’ your blood ran in my veins. I’d 
prick my veins with a pin, so I would, and as the 
last drop left my body, die, happy because I had 
saved the world from anything ’at could ever be 
like you,” and with a “ ugh ” or grunt like a wild 
Indian, she turned from him toward her mother. 

Lutner, no longer under the spell of her piercing 
black eyes, as well as encouraged by the removal 
of the rifle, for physically he was very cautious, 
and relying upon the influence of his wife, who 
always endeavored to control Tattle’s outbursts 
of provoked temper, growled, If your mother 
had proper respect for her husband she’d teach 
her kid better manners.” 

Tattle was about to retort when her mother 
checked her. Feeling secure under his wife’s 
protection, he snarled, “ I’ll thrash the life out of 
you,” making a menacing gesture toward Tattie. 
He was in a furious rage. Tattie, heedless of the 
peacemaking efforts of her mother, her cheeks 
burning, her eyes blazing, and just indignation 
vibrating in every nerve, in every fiber, walked 
up to the man and said : 

'' I jes’ dare you t’, so I do ! ” Almost before 
her words were finished, she was seized by his 
brutal hands, and dashed aside with such force 


LADIES FIRST. 


91 


<< 


that pain caused her to cry aloud. Her mother 
caught her in her arms just as several miners, who, 
having heard the scream, appeared in the door- 
way, and Lutiler slunk away. Barney Ryan’s 
Irish blood was in a turbulent condition, and he 
shouted so that the retreating ears of Lutner 
might not miss the words : 

More throuble wid that skulking stipfather ? 
Shure Oi’d loike to brake iv’ry bone in his body, 
and it’s meself can do it,” and he began to rollup his 
sleeves, and looked like a plucky bantam in a cockpit. 

“I was only laughin’, declared Tattie, nerv- 
ously. 

“Shure, Oi says the tears in yure oyes,” insisted 
Barney. 

“Well, I alius laughs till I cries,” returned 
Tattie, and her honest eyes were veiled as she 
uttered the falsehood, but she had saved Lutner 
from a good, sound drubbing. 

Kelvyn knew she Avas prevaricating, and thought 
he would counsel her while she was in a softened 
mood. He told her that moderation was good in 
all things, and that she had done well in control- 
ling her impatience ; that even if her stepfather 
was exasperating, she must not follow his example 
and be exasperating also ; and explained how two 
wrongs did not make a right, until Tattie hung 
her head in shame ; then, bashfully lifting her blush- 
ing face, she turned to the miners and said, with 
apologetic humility : 

“ You know, boys, I give my stepfather lots of 
trouble. I’m sorry my temper’s bigger ’n 1 am 
my own self — but — but — ” and a glimpse of her 


92 


LADIES FIRST. 


(< 


defiant look returned to those black eyes, as she 
slyly turned her back upon Kelvyn’s scrutinizing 
gaze — that would-be good shepherd was reveling 
in the happy thought that even if he wasn’t prac- 
tically religious, but only an up-to-date Christian, 
he might gather into the fold a few stray lambs — 
well, like Tattie, for instance — when her very 
audible whisper gave him grave doubts as to his 
beneficent influence. 

“ But it does me good to give him sas^,” and she 
turned her head and glanced towards Kelvyn in an 
apprehensive way, as if expecting to dodge a rebuke 
if he had heard her remark, “and I’d just like to 
give hitn a good ma7totada,'' she whispered, laugh- 
ingly, as she suited an energetic gesture to the 
Spanish word, as if to slap someone would do her 
wicked little soul a world of good. 

Tattie had a spirit hard to subdue when her tem- 
per was raised to concert pitch. 

“ I tried to like him first off,” she went on, 
“ until he beat me one day — my heart will never 
stop aching over that,” and the look of defiance 
in her pretty eyes gave way to burning tears, that 
came unbidden, and coursed down her flushed 
cheeks, her voice trembling with emotion. When 
she pathetically dried her eyes with the ragged 
tatters of her poor, little, cotton frock, several 
flannel shirt sleeves went up in unison, to arrest a 
suspicious moisture in strong men’s eyes. Then 
a smile, like a sunbeam, finished the tropical 
shower, and she gave her father praise, by assert- 
ing, “ He’s a better man ’n I am, ’cause I ain’t no 
man ’t all,” and, as if considering it her imperative 


LADIES FIRST. 


93 


i i 


>> 


duty to drive away “the blues” that she had 
caused the miners, judging from their doleful 
countenances, she said, cheerfully, “ But this sort 
o’ talk makes our sky dull.” Then, in clear, bird- 
like notes, she struck up a song, the doggerel of 
which Kelvyn had composed for “ the boys,” the 
miners joining in the^ refrain, and Gold Gulch 
resounded in merriment : 

“ A wild mining life is the life for me, 

Oh, Christopher Columbus, ain’t it free ? 

Tho’ my style is not such,” 

Here she fluttered her tattered skirt, 

“ As would please fine ’Frisco much, 

It’s too nice for anything, as you can see.” 

Then she did a pas seul that was simply inimi- 
table (it being Tatti&’s own patent), and the miners 
swelled the chorus : 

“ I’m not a fop, you plain can see. 

Such fetching styles, they wouldn’t suit me,” 

as Tattie, singing at the top of her melodious 
voice, walked up and down, with a peculiar, weird, 
uncultured grace, like a rough-and-ready fairy, 
made to order for the glory of Gold Gulch. 

The moon had risen in all her full orbed glory, 
and lent her countenance, as well as her mellow 
light, to this scene of innocent mirth. 

Barney Ryan, with the enthusiasm of his race, 
then became the soloist, and sang his words with 
a rich brogue, but no melody : 

“ Be you tree hundrid fate undher th’ ground. 

And a flud makes up its moind t’ come ’round. 

You will git virry wet, 

And yure a lucky dog, you bet. 

If you come out o’ that moine safe and sound.” 


94 


“ladies first. 


Again Tattie did her own peculiar “walk 
around ” and led the chorus : 

“ I’m not a fop, you plain can see, 

Such fetching styles, they wouldn’t suit me.” 

Here Big Sam Williams, bubbling over with 
enjoyment of the scene, let loose his great basso 
profundo, and like rolls of, thunder came the deep- 
chested sounds, entirely regardless of tune — a 
species of rough-hewn recitative : 

“ When up in the hills, we tramp, pick and dig, 

And find big chunks like a pretty speckled pig; 

Then we all homeward set, 

Oh, what need have we to fret? 

How much care we for trouble — not a fig.” 

For the third time Tattie stepped to the front, 
with skirt daintily lifted, and walked, with half 
dancing feet, which gradually began to twinkle 
and to move in livelier time, until they merged 
into a well-defined dance, leaving the miners to 
do the walk-around business. 

Even Kelvyn caught the fun-inspiring infec- 
tion, and, forgetting the propriety expected 
in the autocrat of Gold Gulch, apparently 
thinking moonlight more indulg.ent than the 
garishment of day, stepped around with 
the elegant grace and ease of a ballet mas- 
ter. His voice had evidently been trained, and, 
as he sang, the culture blended with Tattie’s wild 
fanciful method, and their combined voices made 
most exquisite harmony. As their finishing notes 
died away, and they stood in the silvery moon- 
light, a more picturesque couple could not be 
imagined ; the exercise had loosened the braids of 


LADIES FIRST. 


95 


( ( 


Tattle’s hair, and the evening breeze tossed it into 
different coifs, each style being more becoming 
than the last — now a fluffy, silken blonde lock 
would be blown across her forehead, giving her 
an unconsciously becoming negligee, the next 
breeze would bare her pretty brow, till she would 
look like a Madonna ; at least so thought Kelvyn 
as he gazed upon her young loveliness. 

Even Kee, the Chinese cook, was stirred to the 
depths of his Celestial emotion, and slipped slyly 
out from the hotel kitchen to see what the hilarity 
was all about, just as Kelvyn, flushed with excite- 
ment and pleasurable fatigue, called out : “No 
more to-night, boys. The curtain is down. Let’s 
turn in.” 


96 


LADIES FIRST. 


a 


ft 


CHAPTER VIII. 
tattie’s farewells. 

The day, and almost the hour, had arrived for 
Tattie to say good-by to home and friends. The 
letter from the convent, in answer to Kelvyn’s, had 
been received. Yes, the good Mesdames would 
attend to the purchasing of her outfit ; the money 
for which, and for her schooling, was freely con. 
tributed by Kelvyn. 

For three days she had not only been visiting 
everybody in the camp, but she had made pilgrim- 
ages to every spot for miles around that was hal- 
lowed to her. Favorite nooks and corners in the 
deep and rocky gorges of the majestic mountains, 
and the little waterfalls and most picturesque scenes 
along the fantastic, rushing stream, had to be told 
“good-by.” Her loved mountain peaks must be 
climbed, upon the summits of which she stood on 
tiptoe, that her eyes might take a farewell look of 
landscapes she knew and loved so well. 
And Bruiser, the little burro, must be seen 
and thanked for the many miles he had 
carried her over rough roads. Tattie’s good- 
by to the dumb little friend of her childhood was 
sorrowful; but Bruiser looked upon her scalding 
tears, apparently, with utter indifference, only 
braying louder and longer for the supper of oats 


‘ LADIES FIRST. 


97 


he knew she would give him, and of which, for 
the last three days, he had received a double 
ration. 

Tattie’s friends had invited her and her mother 
to supper in the hotel dining-room ; the tempting 
pastry and extra dishes upon which Kee had given 
his most skillful attention and Celestial talent had 
been discussed, and they were awaiting the 
arrival of the stage — Tattie, almost in a feverish 
state, from efforts to subdue her emotion. 

The miners, good honest fellows, were feel- 
ing sad over the departure of the little being 
who had for many years given them all the 
pleasure they had enjoyed in their camp. Big 
Sam and Barney Ryan had known Tattie since 
her babyhood. It was hard for them to recognize 
the fact that she could no longer be considered 
a prattling tot ; she was always a baby to 
them — the wee thing they had loved since she 
crept on all fours — the toddler they had helped 
teach to walk, who, if they held out their labor- 
roughened hands, would step out trustfully, and, 
when she reached a safe port in their arms, would 
nestle so close that they coilld feel the flutter ot 
her little heart, telling the fright that her lips 
could not speak in attempting those first steps. 
They asked no greater pleasure than to feel the 
velvety baby face cuddled in their necks, the 
zephyr-like breath fan their rough skin, or to have 
her baby fingers clutch their hair or tug at their 
beards. 

Barney Ryan had fashioned the first pair of 
shoes out of an old glove, to protect the cunning 


98 


** LADIES FIRST.'’ 


toes oi “ Baby ” when she ventured upon the path 
of life, which, in the uneven surface of the camp, 
was not only figuratively, but actually, beset with 
pitfalls. They taught her to ride, to swim, to 
throw the lasso, to use a pick, to tell good ore 
from bad, to run a dash of a hundred yards, to 
throw quoits, to try her muscles by lifting differ- 
ent-sized stones, and to shoot with unerring aim, 
all of which Tattie did “like a boy,” and much 
better than most boys, to the entire satisfaction 
and delight of her tutors. 

When Barney Ryan sat down to the table he 
said to Big Sam in a low voice : 

“ Aisy, Sam, shure there ain’t no more use o’ 
my thryin’ to ate nor there be to stick a mustherd 
plasther on to a wooden leg. There’s a big lump 
in me troat, shure, an’ I can’t schwallow it at all, 
so I can’t.” 

“ I feel like a woman, and could blubber right 
out,” responded Big Sam, confidentially to Bar- 
ney, and although it was in Sam’s best sub rosa 
style it was heard by Kelvyn. 

“ Well, you mustn’t,” he cautioned ; “ tears would 
make the child sad.” 

“ I s’pose it’s all right,” said Big Sam ; “ it’s a 
blasted pity to see the poor child a-tfyin’ to read 
all the old books she could find, and no one to help 
her. Us boys, and the old diggin’s ’ll never be 
the same to her when she comes back with all her 
book learnin’ notions.” 

“Perhaps not, Sam,” Kelvyn answered, “but 
our selfishness must not be a stumbling-block to 
the girl’s good ; besides, she’s not happy with her 


LADIES FIRST. 


99 


( ( 


stepfather, and perhaps her mother’s life willbe 
freer from discord when the child is away.” 

Barney Ryan grunted that it was a new way to 
make a mother happy by sending her child away, 
and then turned to “Big Sam ” and asked him if 
he had brought in the carpet-bag that held the 
keepsakes. 

“Yes, it’s up thar in the corner,” answered 
“ Big Sam,” with a decided tremolo in his voice. 
A great, long sigh escaped Tattie as she arose 
from the table, and pushed her plate, with her 
untouched supper, from her. 

“ W ell, boys, the stage ’ll be hyur soon, an’ I s’pose 
the time’s come for me to leave all o’ you uns,” 
she said, with the air of a culprit about to be exe- 
cuted ; then, looking upon the sad countenances 
around her, she reassured them with “ Well, after 
all, I’m kinder useless in camp ; and, besides, it 
ain’t a-goin’ to be for so very long. It’s work ’at 
I '•think ’ll suit me better ’an minin’.” 

Tattie was dressed in her best. A clean cotton 
gown of a decided pink tone, white stockings with- 
out holes in them, a pair of new black shoes, much 
too large for her feet, laced up with red strings 
and a black shawl thrown over her head in true 
Spanish style. / 

Her mother was attired in a black dress that had 
seen better days ; a black shawl enveloped her head, 
one end of which was brought across the front 
and thrown gracefully over the opposite shoulder, 
leaving only her eyes exposed, which were truly 
the long, dark eyes of the donna. 

“ Say, boys, you all know Jim Dulligan,” said 


lOO 


LADIES FIRST. 


<( 


Tattle, suddenly, as if remembering something. 

^‘Yes, ’course. Why?” 

“ He fell down the shaft to-day and broke his 
leg. It’ll lay him up for some months. 

There ain’t no dollar in Jim’s cabin — > 
nothin’ but a new baby. It didn’t have no- 
where else to go, I guess, and that’s the reason it 
come. Dropped in through the chinks in the roof 
— its mother told me,” and she picked up an idle 
hat that she evidently thought might be in better 
business, and passed it around. 

Come, boys, chip in lively, ’^she said, in some- 
thing of an authoritative tone. The boys did as 
they were requested by this innately born little 
Samaritan. Her soul beamed through her eyes 
when she examined the generous contribution of 
gold dust and valuable little nuggets, that she 
knew would bring a good supply of provisions and 
pay the doctor’s bill, when exchanged into money 
at the catch-all of every commercial transaction— 
the Amador Hotel. 

If that isn’t enough, we’ll stand another assess- 
ment,” Kelvyn said, with one of his pleasant smiles, 
and Barney’s generosity seemed likely to develop 
into a mine pocket as large as an orphan asylum 
or a home for cripples ; and “ Big Sam ” said : 
“ I’m a fine nurse. I’ll go down and set up with 
Jim’s leg to-night;” and his flannel shirtsleeve 
passed over his eyes, suggestive of unusual 
emotion. 

“ When I’m gone,” said Tattie, with tears in her 
voice as well as in her beautiful eyes, “ there are a 
few things I want you to do for my sake : First, 


LADIES FIRST. 


lOI 


n 


give the gold dust to Jim,” and she placed the hat 
containing the contributions on the table. 

That we will,” was answered in chorus. 

Do it sort o’ careless like,” cautioned thought- ' 
ful little Tattie, “’cause uf Jim is poor in many 
ways, he’s rich in one thing.” . 

“And what is that, Tattie,” asked Kelvyn, his 
voice showing emotion. 

“Why, in feelin’s,” ' replied Tattie. “You 
mustn’t look into his eyes When he has to say 
‘ Thank you,’ ’cause he don’t like for people to see 
the tears ’at alius comes,” and she wiped her eyes 
with the back of her hand. 

“ I’m afraid all'the sick and distressed will miss 
you, Tattie,” remarked Kelvyn. 

“ Well, they won’t one bit, neither,” returned 
Tattie, “that is, uf you attend to your duties,” 
and the young voice recovered some of its even- 
ness, in its earnest effort to exhort others to tread 
the right path, while the consciences of her hear- 
ers gave them a little twinge, as they thought how 
little they had considered their neighbors. “ Be 
sure to attend to Jim’s baby,” Tatde further 
commissioned. 

“ A little out of our line, but we’ll do our best,” 
Kelvyn assured her. 

“ There’s a nursin’ bottle and a little jug o’ cat- 
nip tea in 7m Tnadre s cabin to take to him.” 

Barney Ryan said he’d attend to them. As if 
afraid or ashamed of the big tears that were begin- 
ning to make themselves altogether too unman- 
ageable, Tattie threw her head back, bit her lips, 
and seemed to be examining the ceiling. She was 


102 


LADIES FIRST. 


i i 


praying God for strength to help her bear this part- 
ing, which was the greatest trial of her life, for, be 
it said to the credit of Tattie’s mother, she had 
taught her child her religious views, and Tattie 
could bless herself and say her prayers, never for- 
getting before retiring to her humble little bed to 
make the sign of the cross, saying, En el nombre 
del Padre, y del Hijo^y del espiritii Sancto. Amen.” 
Then, crossing her thumb over her first finger, 
she would pronounce, with greatest reverence, the 
name “Jesus,” and her prayer always included 
her friends ; Kelvyn coming in for a lion’s share — 
not that he needed it more than the others, but 
because Tattie liked him, next to her mother, 
better than any person or thing on earth. Even 
Lutner was recommended to God’s mercy with 
great fervor. 

It required several efforts and audible swallows 
before Tattie could finish her last will and testa- 
ment, as it were. Persistent sobs would escape 
their courageous little keeper, and tears just ready 
to overflow, and so bear proof positive that she 
was “just like a girl,” made her eyes glisten. 

“ Be sure to see ’at the pins don’t stick the baby,” 
said Tattie, in a quivering voice. “And feed my 
kitten,” she added. 

“ A new business, but we can learn,” replied 
Kelvyn. 

Here Barney Ryan whispered to “ Big Sam ” 
that it was time to give Tattie the keepsakes. 

“ Well, go ahead and do it,” said “ Big Sam,” 
not wishing to make an exhibition of his own 
emotional feelings. 


LADIES FIRST, 


103 


( ( 


Barney Ryan then braced himself as if for a go- 
as-you-please fight in the ring, made several quick 
attempts to swallow lumps in his throat, wiped 
his horny hand across his eyes, and stepped to- 
ward the center of the room, like a small boy 
about to say his first piece in public. 

“ Tattie, shure us byes don’t want you to be 
afther fergettin’ us, so we hav’ got togeth’r, and 
put into dthis bag,” and here he made his first 
gesture, intending to point to the bag, but his hand 
involuntarily went up toward the ceiling, with fine 
oratorical effect, ^‘some prisints.” Then, drawing 
from the bag a small revolver prettily mounted 
with silver, a relic of former civilization, he almost 
howled, ‘‘ Here’s a daisy, shure, errigular barker ! 
Its moie kapesake fur yez, an’ Big Sam gives ■ 
yer this’t,” as he held up a valuable nugget of 
gold; “ Jim Higgins gives yer this’t, a purty little 
bag o’ gold dust, an Cap’n Jim gives yer this’t, 
wid all our regards.” And Barney produced a 
very legal-looking document, which he waved 
proudly in the air as he said : “ ’Tis ther notice of 
location, jist as good as a rigular deed o’ ther 
Boss Claim, and what makes yer er real live 
locatur in yer own name.” With a sob and a 
gulp Barney returned the paper to the bag as he 
continued, after surreptitiously wiping away a 
tear : 

Now, Tattie, what I want to say is, that — that 
— Ave have loved yer all yer life ” — a very audi- 
ble sigh — and that — that — you know where your 
frins is, and yer mustn’t — torgit — forgit — us.” 
Then followed an almost silent hand-shak- 


104 “ladies first.” 

ing, in Avhich all joined except one man, 
who was anxiously watching that ancient, piti- 
ful valise, not for the purpose of donating to 
its store, but of abstracting therefrom, and 
that was he who by right should have been the 
child’s protector rather than defrauder. Den- 
hardt Lutner, when he saw that location notice, 
placed among the other gifts, determined to make 
an effort to secure it. He stealthily sidled toward 
the object of his desire, casting furtive glances at 
the wished-for receptacle that contained the cov- 
eted document, But Kee held the valise, and 
Lutner’s sinister eyes could not see their way 
clear to the robbery. 

Tattie murmured her thanks as well as she 
could, for her emotions had almost mastered her 
sturdy efforts to control them. 

Things were looking very serious for her. She 
was going away from the camp, the only place she 
ever remembered of having-seen in all her life, to 
be among strangers. “ How would they treat 
her ? ” “ Would they^be cross or kind ? ” were her 
reflections, but she soon overcame self-pity in her 
thoughts of others. 

Boys, yer are too good ter me,” she sobbed. 

Jest a few words, and I’m gone,” and she reas- 
sured herself by adding, “ for a little while. Look 
after mi madrey' came from the child, with her 
whole heart and soul in her trembling voice. 

“We will, sure as guns,” responded the miners, 
heartily. 

“ Don’t let Melican man hurt Kee — help him 
along like good fellows” 


‘ ‘ LADIES FIRST. ’ 


105 

Kelvyn said Kee would be all right — he would 
take him under his special protection. 

And — and — ” continued Tattie, in a voicequiv- 
ering with suppressed feeling, ‘‘have a kind word 
for poor old Dad. He’s good, but — but — we don’t 
understand his ways.” 

As those words fell upon Lutner’s ears, hisjsyes 
lowered, and he moved a step or two from his 
position of vantage to secure the deed. 

“ Satan’s ’bout the on’y one who can understand 
him. I’m a-thinkin’,” snarled Big Sam, and Lut- 
ner’s ey£s returned to the valise and he resumed 
his former position. 

“Where’s Dad?” asked Tattie, looking around 
for the worthy who answered to that relation- 
ship. 

“ Oh ! ” was the trembling little ejaculation when 
she saw Lutner, who was at that moment glaring 
upon the guardsman of the coveted paper, and 
Tattie advanced toward him, offering her hand 
with the most feeling “ Good-by, Dad.” 

The surly ruffian refused the proffered hand, . and 
snarled “ Good-by, girl,” and even that cold ci- 
vility would have been denied her had he not 
feared men who had been born with souls. 

Kelvyn called Kee to get a rope and tie up the 
valise. Kee trotted off in the usual half run he 
always assumed when he was going to do anything 
for a person he liked. 

The crack of the stage-driver’s whip sounded, 
followed soon after by a very loud “ Whoa! ” and 
the horses, steaming and panting, stopped in front 
pf the Amador Hotel. 


io6 


LADIES FIRST. 


i ( 


Two travelers alighted — a man and a boy. 
Before they entered the house, and at the supreme 
moment of sadness, when Tattle’s words failed 
her, and she was taking a silent leave of her friends, 
Lutner sneaked closer to the valise, and stealthily 
extracted therefrom Tattle’s location notice — just 
as Kee was returning to tie up the bag. The 
Chinaman’s suspicions were aroused, and he 
accused Lutner, in his plainest English, of hairing 
tampered with its contents* 

Wha’ you ketch um in blag ? ” he cried. 
“ Gimme blag, dam qulick,” continued the irate 
Celestial. 

“ Take your old bag ; I don’t want it,” returned 
Lutner, as he threw the bag at Kee, and went off, 
mumbling to himself, for there was no one else 
with whom he was on speaking terms, “ Go on, 
damn you all ; but I’ve got the deed, and my name’s 
D. B. Lutner. Lucky that smart tenderfoot 
didn’t know that my initials are the same as the 
girl’s,” and the tell-tale scar pointed upward to 
his eyes as the Satanic smile appeared and he 
thought, Kind of Kelvyn to make me D. B. Lut- 
ner, sole owner of the richest claim yet discovered 
in this region.” 

“ Me tell Captain Jim,” retorted Kee, and he 
turned with that in view, but Kelvyn was most 
seriously occupied supporting Tattle’s mother in 
his strong arms. 


’ • LADIES FIRST. 


lo: 


-CHAPTER IX. 
kelvyn’s inheritance. 

Just as the two travelers were entering the 
house they met Kelvyn, Tattie and her mother, 
who were leaving. In the doorway the light from 
the room fell full upon the faces of Banatyne and 
his son Dougald, who were on one of their mine 
hunts. The faces of the little group leaving the 
room were covered by the night’s shadows ; even 
if that had not been the case, Banatyne would 
never have recognized Kelvyn, in the rough-look- 
ing, bearded miner into which Prince James ” 
had developed. Kelvyn started at the unexpected 
meeting ; but there was no time for reflection. 
Tattie’s mother hAd fallen in an unconscious con- 
dition into her child’s arms, and Kelvyn was 
obliged to return to the room with the little 
woman, where he placed her upon a chair, and 
where friends were soon trying to restore hereto 
consciousness. Tattie, seeing her mother so ill: 
wept the bitterest tears of her life. Banatyne, not 
1 eing able to look through the group of solicitous 
friends, asked, naturally, ‘^What’s the trouble?” 
and Tattie sobbed, Mi madre s so sick.” 

Dougald’s heart was touched with the child’s 
grief, and he took her hand so gently, and said. 
Don’t cry, little girl ; your mothePll soon be well. 


io8 


LADIES FIRST 


(t 


She has only fainted, I think.” Tattie raised ner 
eyes to his face, and, in an instant, experienced a 
sudden influence, a strange, indefinable magnet- 
ism that made her love the boy at once. Bana- 
tyne’s voice was heard in the bar-room adjoining. 
“ Give me a little soothing syrup. I’m all chilled 
through,” he was saying. “ My goodness ! what 
a storm! That confounded stage has broken 
down, and even if it hadn’t, I wouldn’t go another 
step in such weather. Why don’t you fellows 
order better weather in these diggings, anyhow ? 
Can you let me have two beds ? ” 

During that speech Kelvyn was carrying the 
almost inanimate body of Mrs. Lutner to her cabin 
hard by, Dougald and Tattie following hand in 
hand, through the driving rain. 

He placed the little mother upon her comfortless 
bed. Fifteen minutes later the doctor, who had 
been hastily summoned, came, but declared that 
death was only a question of minutes. Tattie 
hovered over her mother and watched for some 
sign of returning consciousness. 

At last a glimmer of intellect shone in her eyes. 
Those wistful eyes dwelt fondly upon Tattie for 
an instant, as she held out her hand feebly, which 
Tattie took, smothered with kisses and bathed with 
burning tears; then the- eyes of the mother turned 
toward and seemed to become riveted upon 
Dougald ; she feebly advanced her other hand 
toward him, and her lips moved, but uttered 
no sound. Awed by the sad scene and her appeal- 
ing look, he pressed the trembling hand in both 
his own as the mother, with the strength that 


LADIES FIRST.” 


109 


death often gives just before life goes out, drew 
the boy to her, kissed him with lingering devotion, 
pressed him to her dying heart, as if she would 
keep him always ; a similar farewell to Tattie, and 
she murmured : ‘‘ Good-by, dear children. God 
protect you both.” 

She asked for Captain Kelvyn. In a moment 
he was on his knees at her bedside. 

“ If I should die,” she gasped, “promise me that 
you will guard and protect Dolores.” 

“ I promise,” Kelvyn replied, solemnly. 

She fell back upon her pillow, and all thought 
her spirit had taken its flight, but after a moment 
of grievous suspense her lips moved, and Kelvyn 
bent his head to catch her words. 

“ If at any time she becomes a burden,” the dying 
mother whispered between the painful gasps for 
sufficient breath, which was rapidly failing her. 

“ She will never be a burden to me,” Kelvyn 
assured the sufferer, and a faint smile of gratitude 
passed over her pallid face. 

“ Will pray God and the saints in heaven to 
bless you,” she murmured. 

Again her breath was exhausted, and her fast- 
waning strength failed her, but, as if determined 
to hold life long enough to enable her to make 
known her disposition of her child, she again 
recovered herself sufficiently to add : “ There is a 
small wooden box under my bed, which you must 
take — when I am no more on this earth ; if you — 
want — to — send — her — away — from you — open— 
the — box.” 

Her speech left her. Her breathing came faster 


no 


LADIES FIRST. 


< ( 


and faster. Her eyes, wide ope^j, looked fixedly 
upon Tattie and Dougald, who were clasped in 
each other’s arms, sobbing and weeping. The 
doctor listened to her faint heart-beats ; her nails 
grew dark, a purplish tinge came over her face. 

In a few moments the physician raised his head, 
and, in great solemnity, said : 

“ It is all over. She is dead.” 

These words seemed to stun Tattie. She looked 
at him in a dazed, wondering way. Her tears 
ceased to flow. She moved mechanically to her 
mother’s beside ; silently stroked the dead face 
with a caressing hand, passed her arm around the 
lifeless little form, dropped down upon her knees 
and hid her face upon the breathless bosom. 

The doctor pronounced the death a case of heart 
disease, precipitated by a sudden nervous shock. 

Kelvyn tried to soothe Tattie and lead her 
away, but she refused to leave her mother. For 
hours the child’s head lay upon the still breast — 
the living clinging to its dead. 

“ Big Sam ” and Barney Ryan whispered words 
of consolation to the child, but Tattie either did 
not hear or did not heed, and looked as if nothing 
but force would make her cease her watchful 
vigil. 

At last Dougald passed his arm around the 
little heart-broken mourner, gently lifted her head, 
and placed it upon his shoulder. “ You will grieve 
yourself sick,” he said kindly. Come with me.” 

Tears rushed to Tattie’s burning eyes, and 
soothed her sore heart. She wept and was com- 
forted by the young stranger, whom she had not 


LADIES FIRST. 


( t 




III 


known two hours before her bereavement. 
Dougald led her from the cabin back to the hotel, 
followed by her old-time friends. Lutner watched 
by the dead alone. Remorse might have been his 
companion, had he not said farewell to fhat unwel- 
come presence years before. 

At the hotel Banatyne was waiting for his son, 
wondering what could have .become of him, and 
as Dougald lead the weeping child into the room 
he asked: “ Isn’t the mother better?” “ Betther 
is it ye ask?” answered Barney Ryan in surprise, 
his moistened eyes glistening ; “ shure she died tree 
hours ago/’ “ A sad business,” murmured Bana- 
tyne, in a meditative way. 

Kelvyn did not speak. He did not wish to 
recognize Banatyne and relied upon his own 
changed appearance to serve as a disguise. At 
times a lingering fondness for his old friend 
asserted itself, and he repented of the rage that 
possessed him when he had struck Banatyne 
down, but this was not one of those moments 
when he felt in a softened mood, for the death 
scene recalled the taking away of his own mother -; 
and he still held Banatyne accountable in a 
measure for that overshadowing bereavement. 

Banatyne turned to Tattie, saying : Try to stop 

crying, and forget ” The words would not 

come. He grew pale, for as the child held her face 
up, as a baby would have done, in a submissive 
way, to have her tears dried by a kindly hand, some- 
thing in the sorrowful little features must have 
impressed him ; but then a sorrowing child cannot 
be looked upon by anyone without a heart pang. 


II2 


LADIES FIRST. 


tt 


Tattie in her grief was more beautiful than ever. 
Her blonde hair had loosened from the braids and 
looked like a disheveled mass of riotous sunshine ; 
the sad little face beneath made a contrasting 
cloud of gloom. Her long dark lashes were wet 
with tears. She was passing through the lights 
and shadows of life — one as bright as the other is 
dark. 

Banatyne drew the )^oung girl close to him. 
“ Where is your father ? ” he asked, and he shaded 
his eyes with his palm as he placed his elbow 
upon the table and rested his bowed head upon 
his hand. 

Don’t think I ever had a father,” she said with 
a half-smothered sob. 

“ Never had a father? ” repeated Banatyne. 

'‘Not a real father, only a stepfather,” inno- 
cently explained Tattie. 

“ Where is he ? ” anxiously queried Banatyne. 

“ He don’t like me ; Captain Jim is goin’ to be 
my father and mother, too, now, so he is,” 
answered the orphaned girl. 

“ Were you born in this camp ? ” 

“ No, sir, I was borned away over in Dogtown.” 

Banatyne’s hand clutched his handkerchief 
nervously and he scanned Tattle’s features 
with anxious gaze. 

“ What is your name ? ” 

“ Dolores, but they calls me Tattie, ’cause my 
close is ragged.” Banatyne turned pale, and his 
beard concealed the nervous twitching of his lips. 

“ How old are you, Dolores ? ” he asked with 
an unsteady voice. 


“ladies first.’’ 


II3 

‘‘ ril be fifteen the te^th o’ this month,” an- 
swered Tattie. 

‘‘ How strange, papa,” remarked Dougald, for 
that will be my birthday, too, and I will be fifteen. 
Shake,” he said to Tattie, offering his hand, “we are 
just the same age.” They shook each other 
warmly by the hand, and Tattle’s smile broke 
through her rift of tears like a rainbow — child- 
hood’s grief, though poignant, is fickle and easily 
assuaged and comforted. 

“ Who is Captain Jim ? ” Banatyne asked sud- 
denly, as he placed his hand tenderly upon Tattle’s 
head. 

“Why, Captain Jim Kelvyn,” she answered, aston- 
ished that everybody in the world did not know 
her “ Captain Jim.” “ Mi madr£ gave me to him 
just now before she died, and I love him best of 
anybody.” 

“ Jim Kelvyn,” repeated Banatyne, and his eyes 
wandered around the room as if in search of 
“ Prince James.” Kelvyn was temporarily absent. 

He pressed Tattle’s rough little hands, holding 
them for an instant, and hurriedly left the room. 
Dougald bade her good night, promising to see her 
in the morning, and followed his father. Then 
Tattie returned to her group of friends and slipped 
her hand into Kelvyn’s. He stroked her blonde- 
covered head and made a vow in his 'inmost soul 
to protect and serve the little being, her mother’s 
dying gift to him, with unswerving fidelity. 

The child, weary of watching and weeping, 
crept into his arms, and resting her head upon his 
breast, dozed off into a troubled sleep. “ Big 


it4 “ladies first/’ 

Sam ” put his coat over her, and Barney Ryan 
gently untied her shoes and slipped them off, 
saying, “Shure, her fate are as cold as oice.’’ Tat- 
tie in her griet was again their baby. 

The three friends spoke in whispers, so as not to 
disturb Tattie’s slumbers. The question of what 
was best to be done was discussed, and they con- 
cluded that it was doubly important now that she 
should be placed in school without delay. Kelvyn 
would be appointed her legal guardian, and 
would accompany her to the convent. 

The day following a grave was dug in the side 
of the slope, and Tattie’s mother was laid at rest. 
Tattie thought the grave was so narrow that if 
Mi madre ” wanted to unfold her hands, which had 
been crossed upon her breast, she could not do it, 
and they shoveled so much cruel and heavy earth 
upon the pine coffin that when the angels called 
her she could not rise. 

Tattie’s imagination was in a disturbed state. 
She had a vague idea that she had met with a ter- 
rible loss, and now naturally turned to Kelvyn for 
consolation. She followed him from place to place 
as noiseless as his shadow. She would nestle in His 
arms and tell him how much she loved him. 

“ Now that mi madre is gone, I love you best of 
all,” she would say, “ and Barney Ryan next, and 
Big Sam next, and Kee next and Bruiser the 
last — poor old Bruiser, he has so few friends.” 
Late in the afternoon, after the funeral, Tattie and 
Dougald busied themselves gathering pine cones, 
with which they made an inclosure around her 
mother’s grave. With great difficulty they broke 


“ladies first.” 


II5 

the small hard burrs from the cones, and fastened 
them on a wooden cross to mark the head of her 
mother’s resting place. 

Banatyne had not been well — a nervous chill 
had followed his exposure to the storm ; so the 
doctor said, and by his orders he had kept his 
room all day. 

In the evening just after supper, and before the 
arrival of the stage, Kelvyn, Big Sam and Barney 
Ryan were talking in one corner of the dining- 
room and Tattie and Dougald were leaning care- 
lessly upon the table from which the supper 
dishes had been removed. The two children 
were obviously already very much attached to 
each other; Tattie took no pains to disguise the 
fact that she never had, in all her life, seen any- 
thing quite so pretty as Dougald. His shirt was 
so’ nice and shiny ; just as white as the snow on 
top of the mountains ; his clothes were so new, 
his skin so fair, his hands so soft, and she spent 
much of her time in stroking his light, curly hair, 
and in pressing and rubbing his delicate hands. 

Kelvyn watched them with some uneasiness, and 
a misty idea floated through his brain that Tattie 
needed advice, but how to be her adviser was the 
question that puzzled him, so he determined to 
place his charge in school immediately^ 

Kelvyn had very strict ideas concerning women. 
An angel dropped from heaven could not be more 
perfect than the standard he expected in his 
earthly sisters. Feeling, as he did, in the pos- 
sessive case vein regarding Tattie, he determined, 
there and then, that she should be educated to the 


ii6 


LADIES FIRST. 




strictest letter of the law — according to his blue 
code of ethics. 

Are you a good horse-backer? ” he heard the 
object of his solicitude ask the boy, and he smiled 
when he saw the amused look on Dougald’s face. 

“ Pretty fair,” was the answer. 

“Kin you hold onto a bucking mustang?” was 
the next question from this budding expected-to- 
be womanly perfection. 

“ I never tried,” was the reply. 

“ Oh, I kin, if he bucks a whole day,” was the 
boast of the future rule produced. Miss Propriety. 

“ Wonder if you kin lasso a wild bull ? ” was the 
next poetic query emanating from the raw mate- 
rial upon which Kelvyn and the professors were 
to work on assthetic lines. 

“ Pm sure I couldn’t,” mildly answered the boy, 
with rather a startled expression. 

Tattie was not feeling her best, or she would 
have shown her contempt for a boy so lacking in 
essential knowledge, from her point of view ; as 
it was, she made no further comment. 

The stage arrived and departed; among its pas- 
sengers were Banatyne and Dougald. Tattie held 
five twenty-dollar gold pieces which Banatyne 
pressed into her hand, and Kee delivered a note to 
Kelvyn, which read as follows : 

‘ ‘ My Dear Kelvyn : 

I feel great interest in the little girl whose mother died so 
suddenly yesterday. She could not have been placed in better 
hands than yours. I would esteem it a great favor to be al- 
lowed to contribute sufficiently for her entire support and edu- 
cation. Very kindly draw upon me for any amount she may 
need, and oblige Yours, very truly, 

Roy H. Banatyne.*' 


LADIES FIRST. 


<< 


M 


II7 


As Kelvyn looked at the careless, familiar writ- 
ing it seemed like a hand-clasp of the brother man 
he had once called friend and loved so well ; and 
he thought, “Well, Roy's generosity should cover 
a multitude of sins,” as he sat down to make re- 
■ply : , 

Mr. Banatyne. 

Dear Sir: As the legal guardian of the child in question, 
and I might say foster father, I feel it incumbent upon me to 
decline with thanks your very generous offer. My promise to 
her dying mother to guard and protect her child makes it my 
sacred duty to fulfill the trust in every particular. I consider 
the little being more unfortunate than if she were an orphan, as 
she is wholly ignorant as to who her father was or whether he is 
living or dead. If dead, he, of course, can lay no claim to her ; 
if living, he must have deserted her in her infancy, and by 
virtue of his abandonment would have no right to her child, 
she is mine to do for as rightfully as if God Himself had sent 
her to me. Again thanking you, I have the honor to be, - 

Respectfully yours. 

James Kelvyn. 

To Roy H. Banatyne, Esq.” 

Kelvyn posted his letter. The next day he 
started from Gold Gulch with Tattie, and by eight 
o’clock in the evening she was placed in school. 
Lutner left the camp the same day and settled in 
Hangtown. 

After Tattie’s departure from Gold Gulch there 
was much gloom in the camp, and for several days 
Captain Jim and his companions succumbed to 
many pronounced fits of the blues. They seemed to 
vie with each other in carrying out Tattie’s last 
requests, and when they gathered around their log 
cabin fire for their evening meals of bacon and flap- 
jacks, their talk, by common consent, was about 
their absent one. Finally, one night, as they 


LADIES FIRST. 


turned over their blankets to soften them for a 
night’s rest, Captain J im spoke up : 

‘‘We must brace up, boys ; and the best brace is 
work. We have several good locations that need 
development. We can’t work them all. Suppose 
we start on the Croesus — that seems to me to be 
more favorably located. It’s nearest camp and 
available for timber and water. What say you ? ” 

All were agreeable, except Barney Ryan 
blurted out : 

“ What’s thematther wid Tattle’s Boss Claim ? ” 
and Captain Jim smilingly answered : 

“ Oh, the Boss Claim will keep. Don’t worry 
about that. If the Croesus turns out all right, we’ll 
work the Boss with the Croesus; you knpw it 
takes a mine to work a mine. We’ve done all the 
work the law requires for a year. So it is safe. 
The Boss is located away over the ridge, you know, 
out of the way of the general run. So there will 
be no danger from jumpers. But few prospectors 
get so far away from camp in their wanderings.” 

“Wait until our Croesus mill is running ; then 
we will open up and see what the Boss Claim is 
like,” said Captain Jim, whose word was law. 


“ LADIES FIRST.” 


iig 


CHAPTER X. 

MRS. ROY H. BANATYNE SECOND. 

It was only a momentary unconsciousness that 
Kelvyn’s blow inflicted upon Banatyne on that 
memorable day of “ Prince James’s ” very hurried 
and not altogether voluntary departure from 
Frisco. The mine promoter recovered, before 
the doctor who had been summoned, reached the 
office, and greeted Halstead, who was bending 
over him in anxious solicitude with a smile of 
recognition. 

“ Why, you didn’t know me from Job’s off ox 
just now,” said Halstead assisting Banatyne to 
rise. 

“ No, old boy, I took you for one of the numer- 
ous stars that were showering all about me for a 
time,” replied Ban smilingly, as he brushed his 
clothes, collected his hat, cane and scattered 
senses, and further remarked that he had his opin- 
ion of a man who could not stand a downward slide 
in the market and who wouldn’t listen to reason. 

‘‘ Yes, and crawfishes when a deal doesn’t come 
his way,” added his always faithful friend and ally, 
Halstead. 

“ I’ll redeem Kelvyn’s property and make his 
loss good,” said Banatyne. The mine is all 
right, and you can tell everbody I know it,” he 
reiterated. Now let us go around the corner 
and get a little spothing syrup,” he added, '‘just 


120 


LADIES FIRST. 


(( 

to quiet our nerves,” his habitual smile finding its 
way back to his face as they all accompanied him 
with pleasure. 

Banatyne’s manner of recovering from Kelvyn’s 
‘^convincing” argument, was his usual way ol 
apparently accepting all the common or even 
uncommon annoyances to which mankind is heir 
with a reckless smile and a bold front that chal- 
lenged it to down him for any length of time. 

But try as he might. Banatyne could not forget 
Kelvyn’s face as he raised his hand to strike him 
down. “ I didn’t think ‘Prince James’ would 
take it quite so hard,” he said to himself. “ But 
the young preacher must keep off my preserves,” 
he concluded, as the recollection of Tricksie, as 
she had stood with downcast eyes before Kelvyn 
that evening of their discussion, came back to him. 
“ The girl hasn’t been the same since,” he went 
on, “ and what in thunder was she writing to him 
all the time for anyway ? ” 

The more Balantyne turned the affair over in 
his mind the less self-reproach he felt, as he thought 
of Kelvyn’s fallen fortunes. “ There certainly has 
been a change in Tricksie,” he kept saying to him- 
self “ She’s just as sweet and lovely as ever, only 
the lightness has gone from her laugh and her 
eyes are so pathetic at times. I wonder what the 
girl is moping about, anyway ? I’ll see if I can 
find out to-night and if it is Kelvyn’s work I’ll — ” 
He did not finish the sentence even to himself, but 
the same dangerous look came into his eyes as 
when he saw the first little pink note Kelvin had 
held in his hand. 


“ LADIES FIRST.” 


I2I 


Tricksie had not referred to the fleeting glance 
Banatyne had cast upon her the day they had so un- 
expectedly seen each other at her parting with Edna, 
although she did ask him : “ Who was that hand- 
some boy I saw with you yesterday, Roy, dear? ” 

“When — where? What boy?” he stammered. 

“Just as you were coming out of the Occi- 
dental,” answered Tricksie. “ Why he looks just 
like you, dearest,” she purred. “ He might almost 
pass for your son.” 

“ I have no son,” answered Ban, and, feeling 
that he was on dangerous ground, hurriedly 
changed the subject, not noticing then the differ- 
ence that one day had made in Tricksie’s appear- 
ance, and not knowing that even at that time Trick- 
sie was only simulating her former gayety, which 
she could never feel again in her present surround- 
ings ; for it was Edna’s generous words, not 
Kelvyn’s reproaches, that had taken root in her 
wayward heart. It was the tender hand of the 
pure, noble woman, held out, though unknowingly 
not the condemning finger of the hypercritical 
man, that was helping Tricksie in her terrible strug- 
gle between right and wrong. 

As Banatyne came to her that evening after his 
encounter with Kelvyn he was shocked by the pal- 
lor of her face and changed appearance, for she had, 
after much conflicting thought, made a mighty 
resolve, which she meant to tell him at that very 
meeting. 

“ Why, sweetness, what’s the matter ?” he cried, 
Then all the vanity of his nature asserting itself, 
the thought came to his mind, “ She’s heard about 


122 


LADIES FIRST. 


< < 


my row with Kelvyn and has been anxious, bless 
her dear little frightened heart.” 

“ Oh, Ban, I’ve been so unhappy,” she began, 
not knowing just how to tell him what she felt 
must be told at once before the fascination of his 
presence could take away her strength of purpose. 

“Why, I’m all right, baby,” he said, “and 
Kelvyn can go and shoot himself if he wants to.” 

This remark about Kelvyn was so unexpected, 
that before Tricksie could gather herself suffi- 
ciently to resist the caresses she had never meant 
to enjoy again, Banatyne had her in his arms, and 
between kisses was giving her an account of his 
“ interview ” with Kelvyn. 

But she had not heard the last few words of his 
recital, for she was praying for strength to resist 
the power of his caresses. As he finished she 
sprang from his arms, crying : “ Ban, leave me ; 
we must never meet again ! ” 

And standing before him, white and trem- 
bling, with a new beauty in her face, he looked at 
her aghast. Then, like lightning, flashed through 
his brain the thought : “ My God ! She does 

love Kelvyn ! ” And he cried savagely : “ He shall 
not have you, you are mine, do you hear ? Mine!” 
and nearly crushing her delicate wrist in his 
frenzy of love and jealousy he continued in a 
hoarse voice: “You are mine by the law of 
Heaven, and before another sun goes down you 
shall be mine by the law of man or James Kelvyn 
shall answer for it 1 ” 

With a moan of pain Tricksie would have 
swooned at his feet, had not Banatyne caught 


LADIES FIRST. 


123 


( ( 


her to his heart, pleading now : ‘ Mabel — Mabel ! 
Sweetheart ! Say you don’t love him. Say you 
will be my wife, my adored wife, to-morrow ! ” 

A great flood of joy filled the poor tired soul, 
bringing hope for a better life, as Tricksie nestled 
close to the heart she loved so well, sobbing : I 
could never love any one but you, my darling ! ” 

‘‘ Then, why did you talk about parting for- 
ever ? ” demanded Banatyne in surprise. 

‘‘ Because the torture of the life I have been 
leading became unbearable, and I had resolved to 
leave all this luxury and shame and go back to 
poverty and respectability if I could ever recover 
it,” answered Tricksie. 

“ You shall have respectability, love, and honor 
and every joy that I can give you, my blessed,” 
cried Banatyne in joyous tone. '' For the first 
parson I can corral to-morrow morning shall make 
you Mrs. Roy H. Banatyne.” 

“ And there is no other, Roy, dear ? ” queried 
Tricksie. 

“ Why, no, my darling, how could you think 
such a thing ? ” answered Banatyne. 

Well, you see, dearest, I cannot help wonder- 
ing about that handsome young stripling so like 
yourself, my own dear Ban, that I saw with you 
that day at the Occidental. I thought, perhaps, 
there might have been another Mrs. Roy H. 
Banatyne at some time who had left you pledges 
of her love, and I wouldn’t like that.” 

Nonsense, little one, that boy’s only a young 
friend of mine,” he stammered, for somehow even in 
his great passion for T ricksie he felt that hers would 


124 


LADIES FIRST. 


( ( 


not be quite the influence he would like Dougald 
to be under ; at least,” he thought, “ not at 
present, anyhow.” Of course I have never been 
married,” he continued,'‘but I’m going to be to-mor- 
row, to the sweetest, most beautiful woman alive*” 

“ Your truly wedded wife,” cried Tricksie, ‘‘and 
no one between us ? I am so happy ! I shall 
always have you now and all to myself,” she cooed 
in a low, musical whisper, as she lay in Roy’s arms, 
her baby blue eyes looking lovingly up into his 
face with perfect trust and belief in every word he 
spoke. 

Banatyne felt half sorry next day as he stood 
before the “ parson ” taking those solemn vows he 
had always held so lightly before, and said to 
himself: “I wish I had told Tricksie about Dou- 
gald and started life with her on the square. But 
she made such a point of being the first and only 
Mrs. Banatyne — well, all’s fair in love and war,” 
he reasoned. 

Ban’s conscience was very elastic, well adapted 
to any theory that made life easier for him. “But 
I’m going to do right by the girl,” he resolved as 
the minister concluded: “I now pronounce you 
man and wife.” 

And he kept good his resolve as far as his lights 
went, for he built a magnificent residence, fur- 
nished it in princely style and installed therein 
Tricksie as high priestess. Dougald absent in his 
school home did not know of his father’s mar- 
riage. His vacations were spent either at the hotel, 
where Banatyne was obliged to still keep his suite 
of rooms to give his boy a home, or in making 


LADIES FIRST. 


125 


i i 


trips to the mines with his father. The boy pos- 
sessed Banatyne’s best love and holiest memories 
— a proof that the man was not wholly lost to 
moral discernment. 

With his usual generous impulse, coupled with 
a natural shrewdness to provide against a rainy 
day, Banatyne had made over a great deal of 
money to his wife, trusting to his good luck to 
replace the sum to his own credit should the 
exegencies require such a return. 

Tricksie was the wonder of her more conven- 
tional neighbors. They looked upon her from 
afar, and gathered their skirts closer about them 
if perchance she passed by. 

They feasted their eyes upon the different stylish 
equipages as they were rolled out of the handsome 
and well appointed stables for her service, and 
watched the vehicles of different mercantile estab- 
lishments deposit their wares at her residence. 
Cost was unheeded in supplying luxuries for 
Tricksie, and some people wondered how she could 
en oy all the beauties of her handsome home, 
witliout the companionship of friends to help her. 

Notwithstanding Tricksie’s ability to indulge 
every wish that money could purchase, her life 
would have been irksome in the extreme, had it 
not been for some of Banatyne’s gentlemen 
friends. At first T ricksie did not notice. the slights 
that were pointedly hurled at her. She loved her 
husband, and so far had been a most exemplary 
wife. But not a call had she received from any 
of the lady members of the households whose hus- 
bands and brothers visited her because of business 


126 


LADIES FIRST. 


t ( 


relations with her husband. Often these callers 
expressed regrets that their wives and sisters had 
been unable to accompany them as was their de- 
sire, but “ previous engagements,’’ “ sickness,” and 
other social excuses had prevented. Tricksie lis- 
tened to these fashionable falsehoods with cour- 
teous dignity, but at times she really pined for the 
society and love of some friendly woman. The fact 
of the matter was, Tricksie was as effectually 
ostracised by her own sex as though she 
had been at the North Pole, surrounded 
by icebergs. Not so with her mate. 
He was welcomed everywhere. Hale fellow well 
met by the very people who cast her out, making 
one law for Roy, another for his wife, and Trick- 
sie queried why ? A pained and puzzled expres- 
sion passed over her countenance, but after serious 
meditation she aroused herself from the unpleas- 
ant reverie, saying: “ Oh dear! I must not think. 
To look pretty seems to be all that is expected of 
me. I only wish some kind woman would teach 
me how to be like her and to be good. But, at 
any rate, I shall not think any more.” 

And, with this wise conclusion, her mood sud- 
denly changing, she rushed to her safeguard, dress, 
exclaiming, as she threw herself impatiently but 
very gracefully upon her divan : “ Oh dear, what a 
perfectly lovely, heavenly day. I’ll go shopping.” 

Soon after she returned from this comforting 
expedition, Roy’s figure appeared between the 
blue satin portieres of the door leading to his 
wife’s exquisitely appointed boudoir. 

“ Hello, sweetness I If I give you a real bear 


LADIES FIRST.’' 


127 


hug will it mash your furbelows? ” he cried, as he 
came forward and lightly touched the costly laces 
and rich ribbons of her gown. 

“ Never mind the furbelows, Roy,” answered 
his pretty wife, with an inviting smile. The invi- 
tation having been accepted, she was soon nest- 
ling in her husband’s arms, feeling that if all the 
world was against her, here was one who at least 
thought her not quite despicable, and who loved 
her, and whom she loved with an ardor akin to 
idolatry. Having presumed upon the invitation, 
until Tricksie was obliged to cry “ Quits,” or run 
the risk of being loved to death by her bearlike 
husband, Roy spied tne shopping results that 
were just being delivcied. 

“ What did you promise to pay for all those 
dry goods?” he asked, pointing to the numerous 
piles’ of costly gowns and lingerie and smiling 
upon Tricksie as he might have smiled upon a 
child who had just received a visit from Santa 
Claus. 

“ I didn’t promise to pay at all. I promised that 
youd pay,” laughed Tricksie, as she passed her 
white arms about his neck, and showered kisses 
upon the lips that she loved so well. 

“ Grass is pretty short, Trix,” was Roy’s prosaic 
reply, “ but don’t let that interfere with your shop- 
ping,” he added, only please don’t ask for much 
ready cash. What would the world do, and yours 
truly in particular, without .a credit system ? ” he 
asked as he gave his wife a good manly hug, and 
stopped her words with a kiss. 

“ Why, Roy, are stocks down ? ” 


128 


LADIES FIRST. 


<< 


‘‘ Slightly,” Roy answered, as he thought of 
the impoverished condition of his exchequer. 
“ Don’t you want some of the money that is to my 
credit in the Bank of California ? ” asked his wife, 
sympathetically. 

“ What a delicate way you have of offering 
your own,” he replied. “ I hardly think I would 
use your money. I’d rather sacrifice Kelvyn’s 
property that I have carried for him the last two 
years, paying taxes and incidental expenses, not 
to mention the interest on my money that is 
tied up, but I’ll strain every nerve before I let it 
go. Why, my note is considered as good as gold 
everywhere, and it costs nothing to give it,” he 
concluded, with his usual reckless air. 

“ But some day you’ll be obliged to pay those 
notes, won’t you ? ” innocently asked his more 
cautious wife. 

“ That depends upon luck and circumstances,” 
answered Roy, with the sanguine assurance of one 
who almost believed he had a charmed life. 

“ Some people pay notes one way, some another. 
I’ve had lots of friends pay me in full by applying 
to the bankruptcy courts ; some have gone away, 
or died, forgetting their notes. Now, don’t you 
see, if the worst comes to the worst, I may pay 
my creditors off in like coin, — but don’t you 
bother your little head about it,” he continued. 

I’m the business man of this firm,” and he gave 
Tricksie an enraptured little squeeze, '‘and if I 
can’t run this shebang. I’d better shut up shop. 
I’m sure I ought to be able to play all kinds of 
tunes on my own fiddle.” 


LADIES FIRST. 


129 


it 


Oh, Roy, dearie, is there nothing I can do to 
be useful ? My sphere seems so limited. Am I 
always to be a brainless doll that needs sawdust ? 

Nobody loves me ; on the contrary ” Tricksie’s 

eyes filled with tears, — “I’m — I’m — ” pride and 
emotion choked her voice, for she would not 
acknowledge, even to her husband, that she 
noticed the disdain with which she was treated. 

“ What’s the matter with me ? ” asked Roy in 
a surprised, injured tone. “ Why, you have a 
whole world of love right here, little one,” and he 
caressed her fondly, and pressed her head tenderly 
against his heart . Tricksie could hear its throbs, 
and she thought its every beat was for her, and 
felt consoled. 

It was scenes like this that prevented Banatyne 
from telling his wife of Dougald’s existence. He 
hadn’t the courage to confess himself a falsifier, 
and forfeit her confidence ; or to tell her that she 
had only a divided interest in his affections, for the 
time to dread any evil influence she might have 
upon his child had passed. Tricksie had proven 
herself worthy of every confidence. 


130 


LADIES FIRST.” 


CHAPTER XL 

WITHIN CONVENT WALLS. 

Time galloped along in its triumphs, as Time 
has a way of doing, and still Tattie did not think 
his speed would break his legs. Three years of her 
school days had passed, much the same as anybody 
else’s school days would have passed, if we except 
the shocks she occasionally gave the good 
madames, who were charged with her education. 

In the first days of her school life, when she 
was trying very hard to be good, her name was so 
draped with black marks that Tattie wondered how 
the books would hold them all. It seemed to her 
that everything she did was wrong — not ac- 
cording to convent standard. Her walk was 
wrong. She was made to understand that she did 
not know how to sit down properly ; she did not 
know how to eat according to rule ; she did not 
know how to get into a room, and when she got 
there she did not know how to make her exit — so 
the madames said ; the only thing that was 
not decidedly objected to was her breathing, 
and that surprised her, because she breathed in 
the convent just the same as she had in Gold 
Gulch. Things which she prided herself upon 
knowing were frowned down upon as not worth 
knowing. Poor Tattie was like a wild bird in its first 
cage, and it was not gilded, either — from her point 
of view. 


LADIES FIRST. 


n 


99 


131 


Once when she led the girls ” beyond the 
limits of their playground to the stable yards 
and dexterously turned loose the horses from their 
stalls and gave an exhibition in lariat throwing, 
the madames did not seem to appreciate such an 
example of mountain training, and . besides the 
usual line of decorated marks credited to her 
name she was obliged to say the rosary three 
times ; and when she, on occasions, would take 
her companions around the corner of the convent 
building, and give them a lesson in whistling, she 
was threatened with expulsion ; and when on the 
impulse of the moment, she would pick up her 
skirts, which the sisters had lengthened, so that 
they were always in Tattie’s way, and asked the 
girls to see how many they could count while she 
made a dash of a hundred yards, propriety 
was so outraged, that she was forbidden to speak 
to the girls for a whole month, which command 
she obeyed until a little clandestine trickery ena- 
bled her to do otherwise ; but whenever caught 
in acts of disobedience, she always ‘‘ owned up ” 
and took her dose of penance like a “ little man.” 

An episode of her early school days happened 
when one of the boys from Mr. Brown’s college, 
hard by, threw a note, sealed with molasses candy, 
over the fence at her, and then kissed his hand 
and hugged himself in a most expressive way. 
Tattie instantly scaled the convent fence, and gave 
him such a drubbing that the other college boys 
refrained from annoying the good sisters or their 
charges for the rest of the term ; and still the 
nuns did not appreciate Tattle’s vindication of 


132 


“ LADIES FIRST.” 


herself and the other girls, notwithstanding the 
fact, as Tattie knew, that novenas upon novenas 
had been offered to protect the girls from those 
beardless antagonists, all to no practical purpose. 
Tattie was curious to know what would please 
the good, fastidious madames ; her intentions were 
the best, but she always ran counter to their 
ideas of propriety. 

The girls all liked Tattie, but at that period of 
her existence, she failed to recognize the truthful- 
ness of the sentimental tradition that school days 
are the happiest of one’s life. 

The first letter to her guardian ran very much 
like this— short and to the point : 

“ Dear Captain Jim : I’m down on this here school. Wish 
I was back to Gold Gulch with you and the boys and Bruiser. 

Tattie.” 

No doubt Captain Jim would have appreciated 
the sentiments, but, as all letters were sent to the 
Superioress unsealed, this effusion, although it had 
required a great deal of time and patience for 
Tattie to form the letters, after studying which 
letters should be formed, never paid into Uncle 
Sam’s treasury the three cents it would have cost 
for its transportation. First, the waste basket ; 
then, the kitchen furnace — and then cremation. 

Things had changed since then, and so had 
Tattie. She had become civilized, as it were. 
Her weather-beaten appearance had taken flight. 
Her hair had grown long, and so had her skirts — 
for uniformity’s sake. Her beauty had become 
more beautiful. Her blonde hair had arrived at 
the womanly dignity of being twisted into a loose 


“ LADIES FIRST.” 


133 


coil at the nape of her neck. She was recognized 
as the prettiest girl in the convent. Many of her 
schoolgirl admirers vied with each other in 
expressing their admiration for het in the regula- 
tion school girl’s ardent terms. 

“ I love Dolores Lutner best,” one would say ; 
‘‘ She’s my favorite,” another would announce, 
clasping her hands and rolling her eyes heaven- 
ward, by way of showing how she “ adored her ” ; 
and a dispute would arise as to which should have 
her as her ‘‘favorite girl,” showing that inborn 
nature to love which works so much happiness or 
misery, as the case may be, when those innocents 
venture into the broader fields of life. 

Tattie had two correspondents, her guardian 
James Kelvyn, who watched with interest her 
improvement, as indicated in her letters, and 
Dougald Banatyne, to whom she had obtained 
permission from her guardian to write, though 
much against his will. The sudden attachment 
she had developed for the boy had never dimin- 
ished, and Kelvyn could not deny the child this 
solitary friendship for one of her own age. The 
childrens’ letters were full of affectionate terms, 
and they addressed each other as “ Dear Cousin,” 
a little ruse of Kelvyn’s to allay the scruples of 
the madames. 

“ In my summer vacation, papa says I may go 
up to your school, and see you again. Won’t 
that be jolly ? I’m counting the days ; believe 
me,” he wrote. 

Tattie looked forward to Dougald’s coming with 
almost a sisterly affection, although the boy was a 


134 


“ladies first.” 


comparative stranger to her. She had never had 
a playmate in all her life before coming to school ; 
had never known a child of her own age, before 
she met him, so Dougald seemed her pioneer con- 
temporary. He had visited her in her last vaca- 
tion, and her guardian had been to see her twice ; 
other visitors, she had had none. 

The summer vacation had again arrived, and 
Kelvyn, not knowing exactly what to do with his 
young charge, after much thought, concluded it 
was best for her to again spend that time with the 
good nuns, and he was in the parlor of the con- 
vent, waiting to see Tattie,who had been summoned 
by the portress, with that soul thrilling announce- 
ment to a convent girl : 

“A visitor is in the parlor for you, Dolores! 
Mother Mary says you may go right in ! Do 
brush your hair first, child ! ” 

It had been a year since Tattie had been called 
to the parlor. Excitement caused her eyes to 
sparkle ; her young blood leaped into her cheeks, 
while her heart seemed to treble its beats. Her 
nervousness was not allayed by the defferential 
manner in which the girls looked at her and the 
impressive, hushed and awed voices continually 
whispering: Dolores Lutner is called to the par- 
lor 1 ” Say, Dolores is going to the parlor!” 

I wonder who it is,” thought Tattie. She knew 
it could only be one of two — Kelvyn or Dpugald. 

“ Say, Tat ” (some of the girls had learned her 
soubriquet, but had been forbidden by the nuns to 
use it), ‘‘ if you get a box of candy you know me, 
don’t you ? ” 


“ LADIES FIRST.” 


135 


Kelvyn could scarcely recognize in the tall, de- 
mure, beautiful girl, as she stood before him, robed 
in the black uniform of the convent, his little 
ward, Tattie. She looked abashed for an 
instant, as if not knowing just how to act ; Kelvyn, 
too, felt somewhat embarrassed, but Tattie, evi- 
dently, concluded to act as she had always done — 
with dear Captain Jim,” who was both “ father 
and mother ” to her now, and throwing her arms 
around his neck, she kissed him and caressed him 
with all the fervor of an impetuous child, the 
warmth of whose pent-up nature must have an 
outlet for its affection somewhere, and who con- 
sidered this very good material upon which to 
lavish it. 

Oh, Captain Jim, you are a darling to come. 
I’m so glad to see you,” she exclaimed ; the sin- 
cerity of which greeting could not be questioned. 
And the thought flashed through Kelvyn’s mind, 
“ if the faintest suspicion of love, other than pla- 
tonic, enters my heart for this beautiful girl, her 
actions would disarm it. No, no, I must only 
have a fatherly feeling for her ; any other senti- 
ment would be dishonorable.” 

“ You have grown a great deal, Tattie, in the last 
year,” Kelvyn remarked in his most fatherly tone 

“Yes,” she replied, “Sister Lucy is obliged 
to let the hems and tucks out of my dresses all 
the time ; just see how long this one is,” and she 
sprang up and turned around and around to show 
Kelvyn the length of her gown ; then came and 
stood by his chair and stroked his hair tenderly 
with the hand that was three years before as rough 


136 


LADIES FIRST. 


( < 


jf 


and brown as a pine cone, but which had toned 
down into the well-kept, tapering hand of a very 
lovely young lady. 

How is the old camp ? ’’ she asked. 

The claims are turning out well as we devel- 
ope them. I haven’t been up to the Boss Claim 
we located for you because my own mine, the 
Croesus, has kept me so busy, but we have kept 
up the assessment work all along, and you can’t 
work more than one mine at a time, you know. 
I’ve put up a mill on the Croesus, and it keeps 
fifty stamps running, and is paying me fairly well. 
I may sell it to a syndioate that is considering the 
matter and return to civilization, feeling well paid 
for my experience as a practical miner.” 

That’s good news, Captain Jim,” and she gave 
him a congratulatory kiss, .which Kelvyn received 
in as fatherly a manner as possible, and then she 
asked with some hesitation, and her eyes lowered, 

Have you ever heard from of ? ” 

Oh you mean Lutner ? ” interrupted Kelvyn, 
“Well, yes,” he continued, “he went to Hang- 
town, the day you left, and has been there off and 
on ever since. I’ll never forget the jubilee the 
boys had to celebrate his departure. I wrote you 
all about that long ago,” Kelvyn explained. 

“Yes, I remember, but I thought there might 
be some later news of him,” Tattie said, ^and then 
she asked if they had ever heard from Kee. “ No, 
answered Kelvyn, “ that heathen Chinee was too 
glad to get off so easily. He stole your Boss 
Claim location that I put in the valise for you, 
Tattie, sure; no doubt about it,” 


“ LADIES FIRST.” 


137 


“ I never could believe that of Kee,” Tattie 
rejoined, “ he was always so good to me.” 

Why, nobody else touched the valise, posi- 
tively,” asserted Kelvyn. “You can never under- 
stand those heathen Chinese. They are very 
deceitful fellows, with their innocent smiles and 
oily tongues. Kee tried to blame it on Lutner. 
Now, Lutner may be bad, but he never could be 
such a sneak as that. No, no, that rope business 
didn’t go — but Kee went,” laughed Kelvyn, thor- 
oughly satisfied with his detective work. “ But 
the paper won’t do anybody any good, for it 
stands in your name,” added Kelvyn. 

“ It is not my real name. They call me Lutner 
here and I do not like it,” Tattie said, in a grave, 
earnest tone. 

For an instant Kelvyn was silent. Tattle’s words 
gave him a twinge of remorse, for might not the 
contents of the box left in trust to him by her 
dying mother reveal the girl’s true name ? Many 
times he had determined to open it, and as many 
times he had concluded not to do so, for had not 
that departing breath gasped, “ when she is a bur- 
den to you and you want to send her away, open 
the box.” It was very plain that it was only in 
those emergencies she wished the secret revealed, 
and had he not assured the dying mother that the 
child would never be a burden to him ? What 
right had he to open the box after giving such an 
assurance ? What right had he to pry into her 
buried secrets, unless he did so under prescribed 
conditions? No, he would keep his promise to 
the letter. He would never break the seal of that 


LADIES FIRST. 


receptacle ; he felt that all right to further protect 
and care for Tattie should he do so, would be 
denied him — that she might be taken from his cus- 
tody, and she had become indispensible to his 
happiness. 

He looked at her young loveliness and felt just 
pride at being her guardian. To watch over her 
gave him some aim in life — some interest beyond 
the present. She was bequeathed to him by her 
mother. Who had a better right than he ? 
Surely not even a father, who, if living, had de- 
serted her when most she needed paternal care. 

If the sealed secret would reveal her illegitimacy, 
he did not wish to know it. It should remain 
forever closed. He was startled as Tattie broke 
the silence, saying : 

“ My mother spoke to you when she was dying. 
Tell me all she said,” and she looked into Kelvyn’s 
face with pleading eyes. 

Your mother asked me to take care of you^ 
and I promised her I would,” answered Kelvyn 

“ That you have done, and are continuing to do, 
nobly. Captain Jim, but is that alll ” asked Tattie, 
evincing an intuitive instinct that surprised him. 

^‘Well — H’m No — not exactly,” Kelvyn an- 

swered, with confused hesitation. 

“ What else did vii madre say ? ” she ask^d, look- 
ing wistfully into Kelvyn’s truthful eyes and 
instinctively compelling him to obedience. 

“ Something about a box — that — I imagine — 
contains some — secret,” he stammered, “ which 
perhaps — had better ” 

Tattie did not wait for him to finish his sentence. 


“ladies first.” 


139 


but asked in a steady voice, which contrasted with 
Kelvyn’s emotion, “ Do you think that secret 
relates to me ?” 

“Without doubt,” was Kelvyn’s involuntary 
reply, and he continued, “It is my wish that it ’’ 

“ Send it to me,” the girl demanded in a per- 
emptory voice that indicated her right of pos. 
session. 

“ The box was given to me. I accepted it under 
certain conditions,” Kelvyn said, the nerves of his 
face twitching with emotion, as he continued, with 
trembling voice, “ I feel it is my duty to guard it 
in'its present sealed state until certain conditions 
happen.” 

“ Oh, Captain Jim,” I implore you. You never 
knew what it was to bear a name you hate ; to lie 
awake at night and wonder what and who you 
are. Send it to me. Captain Jim, please ; please 
do,” and Tattie was kneeling before him, her 
hands clasped. “ Never mind conditions. Captain 
Jim,” she added with increased vehemence. Mi 
madre would have told me all when she knew I 
could understand, and now I am old enough.” 
And her silken lashes, wet- with pleading tears, 
whipped Kelvyn into obedience. 

“ I will send it,” he promised in a husky voice. 

In these few words it was agreed to unearth 
the secret that meant so much to Tattie, that 
would unveil the past, and be fraught with lasting 
consequen'res. The girl still had her old way of 
quickly changing gloom into sunshine, and, with 
that good intention, she turned the subject of 
conversation. 


140 


LADIES FIRST. 


(< 


» 

You know I wrote you that Dougaid came to 
see me during our Easter vacation,” and her tears 
were replaced by smiles ; but the sunshine did not 
radiate upon Kelvyn. She had selected the 
wrong subject, [unwittingly, so far as he was 
concerned. 

‘^Yes?” and Kelvyn's voice betrayed his un- 
pleasant mood. 

“ Yes,” replied Tattie, so astounded at Kelvyn’s 
frown that words failed her. 

“ Did the madames allow it ? ” he asked with 
fatherly indignation. 

Why shouldn’t they?” questioned back Tat- 
tie, showing some surprise, and, thinking Captain 
Jim was not the same, she determined that she 
would never sit on his lap and kiss him again as 
long as she lived. 

“ Because it is not right,” Kelvyn said, in his 
strictest, chiding, parental style. He is a 
stranger to you.” 

“A what?” flashed back Tattie, for that way 
of calling Dougald was so odd to her that she 
could not help showing her utter astonishment. 

It seemed to her that she had known Dougald 
all her life — long before she had ever seen Captain 
Jim, even if it wasn’t true in point of time. 

“ I said a stranger^' repeated Kelvyn, and a 
glimmer of impatience passed over his counte- 
nance. 

He doesn’t seem so to me. Why, I love him 
ever so much,” she went on in childish fervor, 
“ and he loves me just as much in return,” 


“ladies first.” 


I4I 

“ How do you know ? ” asked Kelvyn, in a 
“ cold, stern-parent ” tone. 

“ Why, he told me so,” frankly answered his 
ward. “ How else should I know ? ” 

She, who was entirely ignorant of the art of 
flirting, had used Cupid’s methods as dexterously 
as the most accomplished belle of society, for the 
thought struck Kelvyn that perhaps Tattie had 
treated Dougald with the same affectionate cordi- 
ality with which she had greeted him, and a 
heightened color flushed his face, as the first pang 
of jealousy played havoc with his hitherto un- 
fettered heart. 

In his childish irritation he felt bitterly revenge- 
ful. He was filled with regret that he had suggested 
the little ruse of Tattie calling Dougald “ cousin,” 
which, of course, gained him admittance into the 
convent. What a boomerang ! He should have 
known the impropriety of the situation. The idea 
of a young girl being allowed to receive visits 
from a perfectly strange young man, unde^ pre- 
tense of being her cousin ! Was ever such a privi- 
lege granted ? Was ever such imprudence heard 
of ? And this was the reward he had received 
from that ungrateful stripling ! He had dared to 
speak to Tattie of love, and he determined in a 
fatherly way, as was his duty, to give Tattie a 
lesson in the proprieties. With this in view, he 
walked the floor with his head bent, like a flinty 
general of the army, meditating tactics to conquer 
his enemy, and at the same time discipline the 
faulty, while Tattie stood looking at him in con- 
sternation. 


142 


“ladies first. 


As he walked toward her she showed dis- 
appointment that he did not speak, and when he 
turned his back upon her and walked in an oppo- 
site direction, Tattie thought the back of his 
coat did not look blacker than the angry passion 
in his face ; and she stood appalled and awed, 
wondering what she had done to offend Captain 
Jim, for she had never seen him act like this 
before. Little did the girl dream that she had 
awakened in this strong man a tender feeling that 
had hitherto been foreign to his nature. At last, 
having evidently determined upon his tactics, he 
“ turned about and faced his enemy.” Tattie 
looked up into his face wistfully and awaited the 
scolding that she felt sure was coming. He took 
both her hands in his, and people not afflicted as 
Kelvyn was would certainly have thought he 
delayed his speech too long, as he stood gazing 
with irresistible admiration at the beauty of the 
young woman just graduated from childhood. 
After a prolonged silence he said, with a very 
impressive and fatherly air, accompanied by an 
I-love-you ” tone of voice : “ Tattie, you are get- 
ting too old to behave with so little dignity. I 
wonder that the madames have not inculcated this 
lesson before ; never tell a man that you love him 
' ever so much ’ ; it doesn’t make so much differ- 
ence with me, because I’m your protector by 
right,” and his love-lit eyes held her gaze as a 
magnet attracts steel, and never let a man say to 
you that he loves you ' ever so much ’ in return, 
particularly that unfledged stripling, Dougald 
Banatyne,” 


“ladies first.’' 


143 


Tattie started and stood with veiled eyes, her 
dark lashes resting upon her flushed cheeks, for 
her face was burning with blushes, but she made 
him no answer. 

As he took his leave, he offered her a fatherly 
kiss, which, much to his surprise, she declined to 
accept, reminding him that she must not forget 
her lesson so soon. 

She watched him from the window. She 
admired his graceful walk, his manly figure, until 
he was beyond her strained vision. Eighteen is 
an impressionable age. She wondered why he 
so disliked Dougald and she battled with a dim 
idea that either she had changed or Captain Jim 
was changed — yes, very much changed. She 
was sure that she didn’t feel in his presence the 
same as she used to up in the mines, and she mar- 
veled* at the persistent blushes that suffused her 
cheeks and were still burning to such degree 
that she was ashamed for “ the girls ” to see her. 

What was the meaning, she asked herself, of the 
unruly way her eyelids had of drooping when he 
looked at her? They never acted like that before 
to-day ; still, she was forced to acknowledge that 
the change, far from being unpleasant, was most 
agreeable, and she wished he had made a longer 
visit and felt a pang of sorrow that their parting 
had been just a little constrained. 


144 


LADIES FIRST. 


ii 


CHAPTER XIL 

THE past’s buried SECRETS. 

The first thing to occupy Kelvyn’s attention on 
his return to Gold Gulch was to dispatch that 
promised box to Tattie, which he did not do with- 
out serious misgivings as to the propriety and the 
necessity of so doing. In due course of time it 
arrived at the convent. It was an ordinary little 
pine affair. The nails which had guarded its se- 
cret were rusty with time and service. Before 
Kelvyn parted with it he had to overcome a great 
many objections that obtruded themselves. Finally 
he concluded that, as Tattie had not asked the con- 
ditions under which he had received it, and as he 
would not open it himself he would still have the 
right to be her guardian. Suddenly a very con- 
siderate feeling flashed through his mind. It will 
be cowardly to send it to her to open all alone,” 
he thought, and an almost irresistible desire to 
revisit Tattie seized him, but he overcame the in- 
clination manfully, as he concluded, “ if it contains 
a secret that she would not like revealed, it is bet- 
ter that no other eyes or ears be present when 
she opens it. That its contents relate to her is 
certain. If she desires to confide in anyone, who 
more worthy than one of the good madames ? 
If she wishes to intrust her secret to me she can 
suit her pleasure. But I am satisfied with matters 


LADIES FIRST. 


145 


n 


as they are, with the exception of that Dougald 
Banatyne affair. I know the idea is preposterous 
that Tattie could fall in love with that brainless 
youth, but still, I — as the grand engineer and mo- 
tive power of Tattie’s movements — must put the 
brakes on in that quarter at least, and at the first 
opportunity I shall suggest to the madames that 
his room is better than his company. I can never 
marry Tattie myself ; the relationship I bear 
toward her would prevent that, but when she 
does marry, I will see to it that a man entirely 
worthy of her be the happy mortal who will gain 
my fatherly consent,” and with great vehe- 
mence of agitation Kelvyn started up the 
mountain path, thinking that a grapple with pick 
and shovel would relieve his belligerent feelings. 

As he walked along, his mind was still busy with 
Tattie. He wondered at the great change that 
had taken place in the little semi-savage, who once 
ran wild in the “ diggings,” and he had a nice 
little talk with himself. ‘‘ By Jove, what a beau- 
tiful woman she has grown to be ! I flatter myself 
that I gave her some good counsel. Who can say 
that a bachelor doesn’t know how to instruct a 
young girl after the little speech I made her upon 
the correct methods she must employ toward 
fresh young men ? I’m educating her as a girl 
should be educated. The tendency of the age is 
to make women strong-minded. Now, a woman 
who thinks upon subjects outside of home is an 
abomination to me, and to all right-thinking men. 
Woman is made to be loved ; to gain that goal, 
she should be womanly — not manly. It is human 


146 


“ladies first.” 


nature for sex to love contrasts. Woman should 
lose her identity in that of her husband — love 
him, trust him, lean upon him confidingly, and let 
him do the thinking part of the business. Her 
brain is not made of the proper caliber to think — 
God bless her ! A pretty thing, made to love and 
to be loved. That is her sphere. She should not 
wish it broadened. Tattie will be just such a 
trusting little soul. Pure as a snowflake from 
heaven. Her husband will mold her thoughts, 
as a sculptor molds the clay.” 

Kelvyn’s reflections had so engrossed him that 
he noticed neither direction nor distance. Sud- 
denly he exclaimed : “ Hello ! here I am, nearly at 
the Boss Claim. Strange — my thoughts of its 
owner must have been the stepping-stones that 
guided me here. I may as well do some assess- 
ment work now upon that open cut we started two 
years ago,” and he struck the Boss Claim’s cropping 
a good blow, that buried the point of the pick several 
inches into the rocky surface. “ A few strokes 
of work each year,” he continued, delving away, 
“ is claimed by that sort of hocus-pocus science 
known as law if we wish to continue the owner- 
ship of a hole in the ground,” and Kelvyn plied 
the pick with a new vigor, as he continued : “ Pll 
put in a good day’s work and send Barney Ryan 
and Sam Williams over to-morrow. We’ll sink a 
regular prospecting shaft at this end of the claim.” 

When a man works for a girl he loves, his mus- 
cles, like haughty gallants, wring from his brow 
drops of perspiration. Each little globule is almost 
as welcome as is the kiss of the object of his ado- 


LADIES FIRST. 


147 


(( 


ration. These are the epochs of his life, when he 
would, in very truth, rather work than play. 

By a coincidence, not so strange as it may seem, 
Lutner and a companion were not very far from 
the spot where Kelvyn was exercising his manly 
prowess in his labor of love. The fiendish black 
eyes of Lutner were watching the gallant young 
miner with a half-closed expression that almost 
shut the peepholes into his lost soul. 

The two men were proceeding leisurely toward 
Hangtown when they saw Kelvyn, whose back 
was toward them. They stopped and spoke in 
cautiously low tones. Lutner said : “ That man 
is working on my ledge. For nearly three years 
I have prevented this by keeping the discovery 
of this claim a secret. I knew if I reported the 
truth they would all pounce down on it, and here 
is this man as a starter.” 

“ Well, all you will have to do is to show your 
title which proves your prior location,” his com- 
panion said. 

What good will that do ? ” answered Lutner. 

An army of soldiers couldn’t prevent these 
hungry villains from robbing me of my rights,” 
and he ground his teeth in rage and took a firmer 
grip of his mining pick. “That man is alone,” 
and he unclosed his eyes and rolled them in a 
sidling way, glancing at his companion, for he 
couldn’t look an honest man square in the face. 

“ What do you mean ? ” asked his friend, horror 
depicted in his face. 

“ I mean that he is digging his own grave,” was 
the muttered answer, as his murderous hand found 


143 


LADIES FIRST. 


( i 


its way to his hip pocket, and he stealthily moved 
toward Kelvyn’s back, but his friend clutched his 
hand and held it firmly in his pocket, as he said 
hoarsely : Do you suppose for a moment that I 
would t^e a party to a cowardly murder ? Oh, no, 
Lutner, you mistake your man. Let go of that 
revolver — quick,” he said in an excited and louder 
tone, as he took the weapon from the scowling 
Lutner. 

The raised voices attracted Kelvyn’s attention, 
and, as by that time the men had approached very 
near him, he raised himself from his recumbent 
position and greeted Lutner cheerily : “ Hello, 
Lutner, my friend, how is the world using you ? ” 
No better than it can help,” Lutner snarled, 
and he and his .companion passed on a short dis- 
tance and then stopped, where they appeared to be 
holding a council ; Lutner in a surly, aggressive 
mood, his companion cautioning and at times ap- 
parently threatening. 

Kelvyn evidently did not like the looks of things ; 
he watched the men closely — at the same time 
giving some attention to his own handy revolver, 
for all men carried arms in those days, and the 
custom is still in vogue to a considerable extent 
in the mining towns. 

When Lutner took another look at Kelvyn and 
saw that the latter was prepared for all comers, he 
changed his purpose, and the two companions 
passed on their way. When Kelvyn had 
finished his work, and had gone about 
half a mile toward his home, Lutner and 
his friend returned, and evidently, as a result 


‘‘ladies first.” 


149 


of their long conference, removed the stakes with 
which Kelvyn had marked the end and side 
boundaries of the Boss Claim, replacing them at 
what they considered an opposite course from the 
Boss ledge. Lutner then concluded to “ lie low ” 
for a day or two — but he was very much like 
his prototype, the devil — he never took a vacation; 
and when he was “ lying low he was busiest, 
planning and preparing a more vigorous assault 
upon his victim. 

When Tattie was told by one of the nuns that a 
small box had arrived for her, and that she might 
come into the pantry while it was being opened, 
the young girl’s face turned deathly pale. Every 
feature of her fine countenance showed nervous 
agitation. 

“ I would rather be allowed to open it when 
alone,” Tattie ventured tremblingly, as she moved 
mechanically along with the sister, her limbs almost 
refusing her support. 

“ That, you know, Dolores, is against the rules 
of the convent,” the sweet-voiced sister mildly 
answered. 

“I must insist,” returned Tattie. There was 
a melancholy cadence in her voice, blended 
with a firmness that caused the sister to turn 
and look with surprise at the young girl by her 
side. Tattie was in a state of confusion, but she 
did not feel helpless. She relied upon Heaven to 
aid her to stand boldly by her resolution that, 
come what might, no strange eyes should see the 
contents of that box until she herself was 
acquainted with their character. 


LADIES FIRST. 


150 


(< 


II 


One word ot explanation which, unfortunately, 
is so often forgotten, or denied from a sense of 
pride, would have cleared the girl’s difficulties 
and gained her the countenance of the good sisters 
and their protection ; but Tattie, in her eagerness 
to shield her mother’s secret, had but the one idea — 
the one thought — that no one should resurrect that 
long-hidden memory but herself, and she stood 
firm in the unshaken constancy of her own mind. 

“ It is a request that I must make,” Tattie said, 
trying to steady her trembling voice. 

Her very anxious looks justly caused the nun’s 
suspicion. 

It will not be allowed, Dolores,” the religious 
answered firmly. May I ask what the box con- 
tains that causes you to object so obstinately to 
my opening it ? ” 

I don’t know,” Tattie replied truly, and Sister 
Aloysius looked pained as she marveled, 

Could this girl, who had always been so sincere 
that, rather than deviate from the truth by the 
slightest equivocation would accept any punish- 
ment, be untruthful now ? ” and she took a small 
hammer with which she broke the fastenings of the 
inoffensive-looking little box, but Tattie caught it 
with both hands, and stood as firm as a young pine 
of the Gold Gulch mountain side. 

“ Please don’t open it, dear sister,” she said in a 
voice that sounded like a pleading prayer, while the 
burning tears gathered and fell from her aching 
eyes. 

“ Give me your reason, Dolores,” sympathetic- 
ally requested the nun, as she passed her arm 


LADIES FIRST. 


ti 


>> 


15 I 


around the girl’s waist and pressed Tattie’s head 
to her bosom, longing to soothe and console the 
girl, who, though obstinate, revealed a high spirit 
that she could not help admiring. 

“ I cannot,” answered Tattie firmly. 

“ Then I shall have to report you to the Supe- 
rioress ; ” sadly the sister spoke the consequences 
of the girl’s disobedience. 

'‘As you will,” Tattie sobbed the words as 
she clasped the little box tenderly to her 
heart, as she would have clasped her little 
mother in life, and as she longed to do now in 
her own misery. 

The big bell that rang in its belfry the rela- 
tive strokes that called the different madames 
clanged out, one — two — three — the number that 
designated the summons of the Superioress ; but 
the call was not answered, and Tattie stood like a 
frightened criminal awaiting her judge, clasping 
her treasure — perhaps her name — her honor— or 
may be her dead mother’s shame — firmly to her 
breast. Little did Kelvyn or she either picture 
such a scene of suffering as this, for the rule of 
opening packages sent to the convent had 
escaped their memories. 

Again the great bell clanged out from its brazen 
throat. One ! two ! ! three ! ! ! — each peal vibrating 
through Tattie’s nervous little body like a death 
knell ; presentlythe Mother Superioress responded, 
and inquired mildly and calmly, “ What is the 
trouble ? ” 

Sister Aloysius simply made a gesture of her 
hand toward Tattie, to whom the Superioress 


LADIES FIRST. 


turned. Tattie stated her case as intelligently as 
she could, sobs interfering at frequent intervals, 
when the sister who would like to have been the 
girl’s champion aided her in explaining the situa- 
tion. 

The Superioress tried to prevail upon Tattie to 
conform to the rules of the school, suggesting 
that perhaps the father who was her spiritual 
adviser could instruct her in her duty. Tattie 
assured them that the priest could not help her, 
and that she must positively and firmly refuse to 
have the box opened by other hands than her 
own, and that she must be alone when she revealed 
its contents. 

After more ineffectual persuasion on the part of 
the madames and firm refusal on Tattle’s part, 
slowly but surely came words from the Superior- 
ess, that head of authority who rules by kind but 
firm discipline: ‘‘Then, Dolores Lutner, you 
must take the alternative. You must leave our 
convent. A pupil who disobeys our rules cannot 
be one of us. Others would set our rules at 
defiance. We cannot have the example before 
our school. I am sorry.” 

Tattie stood dauntlessly erect and received her 
sentence ; proud that, though self-humbled, she 
held safely sheltered that which her mother had 
kept so sacred. 

She asked permission to go to the dormitory, 
which, being granted, she sought that retreat from 
the kindly looks of the troubled nuns. Once 
alone, a reaction took place ; her strength almost 
forsook her ; her head reeled ; her feet tottered as 


“ LADIES FIRST.” 


153 


she went blinded with tears toward her little cot, 
still clasping the box that contained the only relics 
of her dead mother — perhaps the only clue to her 
own identity. One of the sisters had accompanied 
her to the dormitory, unlocked the door and 
turned the key, when Tattie entered, and she was 
left alone. Tattie realized the shame that always 
attended expulsion from school — whatever the 
cause might be — and gave vent to her feelings of 
bitter mortification with all the outbursts of a 
sensitive young heart ; anguish racked her girlish 
frame. 

Did I do right in disobeying ? ” Is the 
excuse sufficient that gives such trouble to the 
dear sisters who have always been so good, so 
gentle to me ? ” “ Am I not thinking too much of 

myself? Ah! if so, I’m sure I am doubly pun- 
ished in my disgrace.” These were the sug- 
gestions of her troubled conscience. She con- 
tinued : “ The girls will shun me. What will 
Captain Jim think? What will Dougald say? ” 
She placed the little box upon her white-covered 
cot, and stood alone in this vast room, with its 
long rows of little beds, every one whiter than her 
dead mother’s face. The small sections at each 
end of the room, draped in white curtains, which 
formed the inclosures for the couches of the ma- 
dames who had charge of the dormitory 
during the night, stood like shrouded ghosts 
beckoning. She was so far away from the school- 
rooms, the refectories and all centers of life in 
that great convent building that the stillness of a 
graveyard, with its rows of white head-stones, 


154 


‘‘ladies first.” 


could not have been more profound. It was a 
scene and place to awe even the unimaginative ; 
to Tattie, with her nerves all warped and unstrung, 
it was weird and sepulchral. 

Her feet and hands grew cold ; her cheeks 
were flushed ; her head hot and throbbing ; her 
imagination feverishly morbid. 

“ The girls will mock me, will revile me,” sug- 
gested her wrought-up feelings, and then she 
gazed upon the little box that had caused all the 
trouble, and, clutching it closely, felt comforted. 

Where were her thoughts? Far away in the 
old mining camp, by the side of a little grave she 
had inclosed with pine cones. She saw the cross 
that Dougald’s hands had helped her fashion at 
its head. The little box took on the shape of the 
pine casket. She saw the narrow trench. At 
its side a pile of freshly dug yellow clay, to make 
room for mi madre s body, as it lay in its earthly 
bed. She saw the merciful hands of the miners 
take up the little cofhn. She watched them 
wend their way up the slope ; saw them lower it 
into its grave ; heard the sickening thuds 
as the clods and small stones fell upon the lid. 
All base material wrought by overstrung nerves ! 

Mi madre ! mi madre ! she cried in ghastly 
anguish, “ when I raise the lid of your coffin, 
will your lips be as cold as when I last kissed 
them, or will they grow warm with their blood 
coloring to my touch ? Will the loved hands 
unclasp to smooth my hair, as they did before 
they became so stiff and cold and white ? Ah ! 
mi Madre ^ amor 7nio ! why don’t you speak to 


LADIES FIRST. 


155 


<< 


Dolores? Tell me of your new home. Tell me 
of God. Tell me of the Blessed Virgin. So still, 
mi madre. No word ! No message ! for poor 
forlorn Dolores. I will raise the lid of your coffin 
that hides your dear face. I will hear your voice.” 

Her trembling fingers sought the box ; with rev- 
erent touch they undid the fastenings of the sacred 
seal. 

The old daguerreotypes — the faded letters — 
exposed to view broke the spell, and awok^ Tattie 
from her wild reveries. Nervously her hands 
opened the case that enclosed the portrait. It is 
beyond the power of words to describe the feel- 
ings of that young girl, as she gazed upon that 
face. “ So this is my father, my very own father,” 
ran her thoughts, as her eyes riveted upon the feat- 
ures in the picture. Some of his friends would not 
have recognized it readily, for he had changed 
in the fifteen or twenty years agone since it was 
buried in its primitive receptacle, but for a certain 
young face that was almost its counterpart — a re- 
production in a younger generation — a most strik- 
ing resemblance between father and son. 

Silently, intently, Tattie gazed upon it, holding 
it in one hand, while the other hand mechanically 
picked up a letter, yellow with age. She closed 
the case, and her eyes grew larger and more lus- 
trous, as she read with feverish excitement the 
contents of those long buried missives. 

A wild hysterical joy took possession of the girl. 
She shed tears ; they were not born of sorrow, 
but the offspring of a heart overflowing with 
grateful gladness, and she cried in her delirious 


LADIES FIRST. 


I5<5 

delight : At last ! At last ! Ah ! Mi madre ! 

my sainted mother ! God told me you were ever 
pure. I never doubted your goodness. You are 
my rescuer. My Soul! My God!” Her over- 
whelmed feelings went beyond all human control. 

With every sense alert, her quick ear heard the 
click of the key in the door, that seemed to call 
her back from the world of the dead. The soft 
step of Sister Aloysius sounded loud in contrast 
with the stillness, as she approached Tattie, put 
her arms about the girl, whose tear-stained face 
revealed her recent suffering ; soothed her nerves 
as those dear brides of the church can soothe, and 
Tattie told Sister Aloysius, who had been her 
favorite madame in the three years of her convent 
life, the story of the contents of her little box, 
showing her the pictures and insisting upon the 
nun’s reading the letters, which she did reluctantly. 

Tattie asked the Sister to dispatch to her guard- 
ian, Captain Kelvyn, for permission to go to San 
Francisco, which was done, and the requested per- 
mission received without useless delay. 

Affectionate partings with the Sisters and girls, 
whom she loved and Avho loved her in return — 
with no shame attached to her leaving — Tattie 
sped away, never to return, unless in after years, 
when her history ceases to interest us, to visit the 
scenes of her school days, and those madames 
whom the Reaper will spare to meet and welcome 
her to the school rooms, halls and dormitories, 
repeopled by a new generation. 


“ladies first.’* 


157 


CHAPTER XIIL 

LUTNER TURNS HONEST MINER. 

Lutner had been a resident of Hangtown three 
years. He made no friends in his new quarters, 
but seemed to have a sudden attack of industry, 
starting out every morning early, not returning 
until late in the evenings. F or months that routine 
continued, always starting before the other miners 
and returning after they had been at home for 
some time. 

The following spring those who knew him were 
surprised one day to see Lutner take the stage for 
Sacramento, and a few days afterward return, ac- 
companied by a strange man, who proved to be a 
successful and influential mine expert. 

For several weeks Lutner and the new arrival 
were seen prospecting the mountains and gulches 
around Hangtown. To all intents and purposes 
they were “looking for a mine’’ — an occupation 
which engrossed all the able-bodied men who re- 
garded Hangtown simply as a base of supplies. 
Lutner was of such a suspicious nature that he be- 
lieved every man’s eye ^was upon him and read 
his secret. It was only after he had pledged the 
expert to secrecy that he finally, and by a round- 
about way, led him to the ledge that he had been 
during all this time uncovering as quietly as it was 
possible. 


LADIES FIRST. 


158 

The expert carefully examined Lutner’s work, 
and it did not take him long to express a favor- 
able opinion, which was more than confirmed 
after a number of measurements, assays and 
working tests. 

“ This is the making of a big property, ana no 
mistake, Lutner ; it surprises me that you should 
have done so much work all by yourself ; why 
didn’t you employ men to assist you and push the 
work of development ? By this time you might 
have a big mine fully developed ; as it is, you 
have a splendid prospect, superficially opened,” 
were the expert’s comments. 

Lutner answered with something of a surly 
growl: “I had my own reasons. No one 

knows when he’s safe from prowling jumpers up 
in these mountains. There are lots of reckless 
miners who would jump a good thing if they saw 
it without as much as saying “ by your leave.” 

“ But, of course,” interrupted his expert, “ you 
have located all right, and no one can hold title 
against you, and you know the law respects the 
ownership of the first locater.” 

‘‘ Oh, that’s all right,” answered Lutner, with a 
chuckle, drawing from his inner shirt pocket a 
long linen envelope, showing much wear. From 
this he took a paper, across the face of which was 
printed “ Mining Location,” and below, in writ- 
ing, ‘‘D. B. Lutner.” “You see,” he continued, 
“ here is my name, and the location was recorded 
the same day it was made. “You don’t suppose 
I’d open up this property if the papers wern’t 
straight ? Trust me for that,” laughed the 


“ladies first.”' 


159 


unscrupulous Lutner, as he returned his “ papers ” 
to their safe deposit. 

After Lutner’s expert had departed, having 
given that worthy some practical advice about 
working his mine, he continued his labors. It 
was remarked, however, that in his visits to San 
Francisco, he usually carried a large carpet bag, 
well filled with gold quartz specimens which he 
had broken out from pockets in his ledge. These 
found ready sale to the jewelers of San Francisco, 
who turned the polished quartz-gold into elegant 
articles of jewelry, for which there was a great 
demand. Upon the proceeds Lutner lived like a 
prince. No one would ever have dreamed that 
the well-dressed man who promenaded Mont- 
gomery street with his silk hat, his fashionably- 
cut clothes, and altogether elegant appearance, 
was that same Denhardt Lutner, the strolling 
miner of Hangtown. At the end of his outing, 
his funds exhausteed, he would secretly depart 
from the city, return to the mountains, don his 
mining toggery, and appear as if Hangtown was 
the only place he had ever seen in all his life. 

He was so quiet and unsociable that everybody 
considered and spoke of him as a harmless crank ; 
consequently no special attention was paid to his 
movements. Two years and a half he spent in 
that double life existence ; now a hard working 
miner, following his ledge ; again a well-pampered 
man of the world, living a life of ease in San 
Francisco. Luxury and hardship alternated ; 
stealthily working the mine all alone, afraid to 
confide in anyone, partly because he judged every- 


i6o 


LADIES FIRST. 


(( 


body by himself, as to honesty of purpose, or 
fearful lest the unequaled richness of the property 
would attract general attention, and its rightful 
owners be thereby made aware of what was going 
on ; satisfied with occasional extravagances and 
royal times when he made his hurried visits to 
San Francisco, always returning to “ the diggings 
the typical mining tramp. 

At the end of another year Lutner concluded 
that he would sell the mine, and so make his for- 
tune in one grand swoop, and leave the State, for 
a foreign country ; too many prospectors were 
climbing the mountains. He did not like so 
many neighbors who might ask troublesome ques- 
tions. His encounter with Kelvyn about this 
time hastened his decision to sell the property, 
which was now looking well at all points. 

So, at the expiration of three years, while Tattie 
had been gaining wealth of mind, Lutner had been 
gaining wealth of pocket. 

Accompanied by Dick Simmons, Lutner went 
to San Francisco with such specimens of ore and 
a report that made the eyes of the speculators 
and mine promoters dance and see stars,” as 
Halstead expressed it in his original way. 

After much negotiation, Lutner sold a large 
slice of the mine, a controlling interest, to Bana- 
tyne, who had immediately ordered a hundred 
stamp mill erected on the property to ensure big 
dividends. 

Banatyne had been obliged to do a great deal 
of talk,” to get his followers to stand in,” as he 
termed it. He had made a great many mistakes 


‘‘ladies first ’ 


t6i 

recently, and he and his followers had lost heavily, 
but he declared that this time “ The pole is long 
enough to reach the persimmons.” 

If it had not been that he had placed so much 
of his money in his wife’s name, the situation 
would have been most unpleasant. As it was, a 
great many judgments were outstanding against 
him, but Banatyne didn’t mind “ little things 
like those.” They were only the spice of a haz- 
ardous life. 

Lutner was not exactly pleased with the way 
things stood ; he would much rather have sold the 
entire property, as he was very anxious to travel, 
but he had been assured by Banatyne that when 
the stock should be listed, by good manipulation, 
he would be much wealthier, if not wiser, and he 
consented to wait two weeks in the city for the 
consummation of the sale of his remaining shares 
on the Board. 

Meantime, Lutner was living like a king at the 
Cosmopolitan Hotel on the proceeds of the first 
payment made by Banatyne. His reckless ex- 
travagance was the wonder of people who knew 
how to spend money themselves. 

A case of live while you may “ like hedge hogs 
dressed in lace.” 


i 62 


LADIES FIRST. 


(< 


CHAPTER XIV. 

IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

A tall, graceful figure, whose perfect outlines 
were not concealed by the straight full folds ot 
her convent uniform of black serge, walked along 
Montgomery, until she reached California street, 
where she paused with that mystified expression 
that bespoke a stranger in the city. Her undeter- 
mined manner as to which direction to take, first 
attracted the notice of the passers-by — a notice 
soon riveted by undisguised admiration of her 
girlish loveliness ; a discourtesy pardonable in any 
locality, for such comeliness as hers was rare, 
indeed. It is only the homage that man pays to 
feminine beauty and grace the wide world over. 

Old Boreas, who makes himself more bluster- 
ingly at home in San Francisco than his frigid 
reception would appear to warrant, was busiest 
that day with his biggest blow ; and, as the young 
girl stood on the corner, he dallied with her skirts 
and kept them in a constant flutter, tinged her 
cheeks with a rosy hue, while a little riotous lock 
of blonde hair seemed to enjoy the frolic afforded 
it by the stiff breeze. She addressed a guardian 
of the peace, who pointed to a building a block 
away, and smiled pleasantly as the young girl 
hurried to her destination with an earnest “ thank 
you, sir.** 


“ladies first.” 


163 


When she arrived at the place designated by 
the officer, she entered the building with a pecu- 
liar sensation of doubt as to the manner of her 
reception. Passing along the marble-floored cor- 
ridor, she read the different names of the occu- 
pants upon the several doors. Presently, she 
halted, breathlessly. Across the frosted glass 
which composed the upper panel of this particular 
entrance, in large letters, was the magic name for 
which she searched. Her name — the name traced 
in faded ink upon the old letters yellow with 
time that she carried in her hand : 

Roy H. Banatyne, 

For an instant she leaned against the wall trying 
to steady her nerves — pressing her hand hard 
against her heart to stop its tumultuous throbbing, 
before she gave the signal that would be the open 
sesame of the portal^ — the only barrier that now 
stood between herself and the author of her being. 

Banatyne was in the highest exaltation attendant 
upon one of his boom excitements — this time over 
Lutner’s mining property — and in response to a 
timid knock at the office door, he called out, 
cheerily : “ Open the door and walk right in,” and, 
as Tattie turned the knob, obedient to the invitation, 
and entered, he continued, “ and Pll show you 
some specimens of ore that came from the richest 
ledge ever sampled,” and Tattie was in her father’s 
presence. 

He was busy examining and assorting ore 
specimens, and turned with a hurried glance; 
catching a glimpse of her skirts he said to himself : 

“ It’s only a woman.” 


164 


“ladies first.” 


Tattie started when she saw his face, as she 
thought: 

“ Why, he must be the gentleman who was so 
kind to me three years ago at Gold Gulch, when 
my mother had just died.” 

Are you Mr. Banatyne?” she asked in un- 
steady tones. 

He did not hear her words, only the voice re- 
minded him that she was in the room. His brain 
was working at high pressure, busy with but one 
all-absorbing thought that filled its every nook — 
its every crevice. 

Got any pin money ? Put it up as 
margin on this property. Double the sum in 
less than no time,” were the very odd first 
words which he said to her, as he continued ex- 
amining and commenting upon the wonderful 
richness of the ore specimens which had thrown 
San Francisco into one of its frequent periodical 
speculative fevers. 

“ Won’t you be seated ? ” he said, hardly deign- 
ing a glance at Tattie, whom he had immediately 
diagnosed as a book agent or a “ mud hen.” 

Tattie was glad to accept the proffered chair, 
for she really felt weak from nervous excitement, 

She could not speak. Her emotion was great, 
but not greater than was her surprise at such a 
queer greeting. Her first impulse had been to 
throw herself into her father’s arms even at the 
risk of meeting with an unwelcome reception. 
She had longed so many years to know him, to 
have his protection, to be loved by him, but his 
unexpected manner had completely nonplussed 


LADIES FIRST.’’ 


165 

her, she could only gaze at him as he rattled along 
with his mine talk, which had become almost a 
mania with him. 

“ Now here’s a specimen that’s almost solid 
metal. Why there are tons and tons of gold in 
sight in this fabulous ledge,” he dashed along, 
apparently not waiting or expecting any remark 
whatever from his visitor. Finally he turned to- 
ward her with an ore specimen in his hand ; evi- 
dently it had been his intention to show it to her, 
but his interest was so intense it was hard to coax 
his eyes away from the attractive magnet and for a 
moment he forgot, and stood examining the treas- 
ure in hand, while she gazed upon the absorbed 
man, scanning his hair, his forehead, his eyes, his 
every feature, and thought as she detected in his 
blonde hair and smile a resemblance to herself : 

Ah ! he is indeed my father.” With the 
impulse of strong affection almost overwhelming 
because it had been so long denied her, she 
advanced a step toward him, intending to throw 
her arms about his neck and crying aloud for the 
first time in loving tone, “ Father ! Father !” but 
her movement was checked by an excited voice 
and these discordant words : 

“ Never was anything discovered to equal it ! 
Never will be ! Never can be ! Now, here’s a 
specimen that’ll go thousands' of dollars to the 
ton ! ” he said, advancing towards her, and hand- 
ing her a piece of ore which Tattie took mechani- 
cally and held. 

“ Wouldn’t you like to make a fortune inside of 
a week ?” he asked. 


i66 


“ladies first.” 


‘‘ If honestly made I should be foolish to object,” 
replied she, “but I am looking for Mr. Roy 
Banatyne — ” she added tremulously, and stopped 
suddenly. 

He apparently had not heard her inquiry regard- 
ing himself, for he^ continued : 

“ Look at the specimen,” and Tattie obeyed as 
if in a trance. “ Isn’t it the finest piece of stuff 
ever sampled by man ? It’s a new mine up near 
Gold Gulch,” he offered by way of explanation. 
“ I just received these samples. Their richness 
simply astounds me. In the last drift they have 
opened up a body of solid gold quartz seven feet 
wide by over a hundred feet long. The walls are 
perfectly formed. We call it the bridal cham- 
ber,” he dashed along as if Satan and all his imps 
were at his heels. 

Banatyne’s magnetic power had influenced his 
daughter and changed her thoughts. She stood 
as if in a hypnotic state, her eyes riveted upon the 
ore which she held in her hand, while Banatyne’s 
eyes fastened upon her face, which recalled a 
memory. “ Where ? When have I seen her ? ” 
were his mental queries. “ Handsomer than any 
picture,” was his unexpressed opinion. 

“ Who the deuce is she ? I have certainly seen 
her face before but still I cannot imagine how 
such exceeding loveliness failed to. impress upon 
my memory every detail of my meeting with her.” 

Suddenly the girl stopped, looking as if she had 
been aroused from a somnambulistic walk, and said 
smilingly, “ How foolish ! I didn’t come here to 
see ores ; I am looking for — Mr. Roy Banatyne.” 


LADIES FIRST.” 


167 

Banatyne thought her lips were made to smile 
destruction to masculine hearts, and shifted him- 
self into a more becoming pose, for he was a sus- 
ceptible man and Tattie was the loveliest of her 
sex. “ I have certainly seen her before. She 
must be a book agent ” was his final conclusion. 
“ My wife says there’s not an inch of room 
left in the house for another book. It’s not 
a convenient reputation to have, that of helping all 
female strugglers because they will keep a-coming. 
I’ll never be able to refuse this marvel of beauty. 
Feminine loveliness always makes me ‘ stand and 
deliver.’ ” Quick as a flash, he thought he saw 
his way out of the dilemma. ‘‘I’ll just play I’m 
another fellow, this once,” so, before the thought 
was fully shaped, he had said: 

“ I’m sorry, but Mr. Banatyne is out,” then he 
added, coolly, “and I’m a traveller, and my grip 
is packed so full I couldn’t add even a book or 
a handkerchief to its already crammed condition,” 
and he twisted his moustache into a more becom- 
ing curl, and arranged his soft, silky blonde beard. 

Tattie was transfixed with amazement. 

“ Then this is not my father,” was her reflection. 

“ Is there any way in which I can be of service 
to you ? he asked, gallantly. 

“Yes,” answered Tattie softly, “tell me of Mr, 
Banatyne,” and she never removed her gaze from 
his face, the more she looked the more he reminded 
her of the stranger who had pressed the shining 
double eagles into her hand at Gold Gulch, and 
the more his features resembled the old daguer- 
reotypes she had taken from the box left by her 


i68 


LADIES FIRST. 


( ( 


dying mother, until Banatyne felt aoashed, for even 
Roy could muster a little embarrassment when 
he was not discussing mines, and while he was 
being closely watched as if he were a freak bv a 
beautiful girl with bewithching eyes. 

Tattie’s woman’s penetration instantly saw 
through Banatyne’s subterfuge. She was as well 
satisfied then that her father sat there before her 
as if he had lovingly proclaimed himself. What 
his motive was in denying himself was a secondary 
consideration to her, but naturally she distrusted 
him. In a moment she had read and re-read in 
imagination all those letters rusty with age, and 
concluded that his was the fault that had caused 
the separation of father and mother. The 
suspicion had flashed through her mind that per- 
haps her father knew her and assumed this dis- 
guise to avoid acknowledging her as his daughter. 
A momentary feeling of indignation possessed 
her, and she determined to compel him to unmask 
himself. 

“ Of course you know this Mr. Banatyne i ?m 
looking for ? ” she asked, quietly. 

Oh, yes, very well, indeed,” responded Roy, 
feeling just a little uncertain and nervous, as he 
adjusted his necktie, stealing a glance at the ques- 
tioner, and wondering what was coming next. 

“ A man about your age from the description I 
have had of him, isn’t he ? ” she continued to 
question. 

“ Well, yes, I guess he must be about my age,” 
answered Roy, very much disconcerted. 

“ And from photographs I have seen, you resem- 


LADIES FIRST ’’ 


169 


ble him somewhat,” she said, mischief sparkling 
in her eyes as she continued. ^‘You seem well 
acquainted with Mr. Banatyne, perhaps you will 
give me the information I require just as well 

as he could. By-the-way, excuse me, Mr. 

What shall I call you?” 

“ Ba ,” began Banatyne, unthinkingly, ‘‘Yes, 

Brown,” he corrected himself nervously, growing 
red in the face, as he noticed a shadow of a smile 
play about the girl’s lips. 

“ Of course, Mr. Brown,” said Tattie, with just 
a touch of indignant sarcasm in her voice, “ Now 
tell me something more about your friend Bana- 
tyne.” “ You understand, Mr. Ba mean 

Smith,” and she looked at him roguishly as he 
interrupted her with : 

“ Yes, Brown.” He determined to stand upon 
his feet, if possible. 

“ Well, you understand, Mr. Brown, that you 
needn’t answer unless you want to. Anyone can 
refuse to answer questions — even about himself y 

That was a home thrust, and Banatyne turned 
nervously in his chair and looked toward the door, 
apparently hoping for some timely interruption. 
He liked the things that flavored life, but this 
seasoning had a dash of cayenne that was decidedy 
too hot for him. 

“ I am always ready to acommodate the ladies,” 
he returned, bravely courteous. “ Please proceed 
with question number one,” and he tried to look 
as indifferent as possible, as he picked up one of 
Halstead’s discarded chrysanthemums and ad- 
justed it in his buttonhole. 


“ladies first. 


170 

“ Is your friend Mr. Banatyne married?” sud- 
denly queried Tattie, looking her father straight 
in the eye. 

He hesitated, stammered, “Well, yes, he was 
married, and, come to think of it, twice married.” 

“ He certainly is a close friend of yours; for you 
know all about his alliances,” rejoined Tattie. 
“And, pray,” she continued, as she drew her chair 
closer to Banatyne, “ What was his first wife’s 
name ?” 

Roy edged away, looked at her curiously and 
answered, “ She was a Spanish girl, Dolores 
Diaz.” 

Tattie started exultantly as she exclaimed : 

“ And I knew Dolores Diaz’s daughter, and her 
name was Banatyne. See, here is mother’s pic- 
ture and your own ! ” and she handed him the 
small package that she had brought with her that 
contained the old portraits and faded letters. 

“ Ah ! tell me that the voice of instinct whis- 
pers to you who I am? Tell me that you know 
me by your natural love of me, before I call you 
by that sacred title which is my right,” she said, 
supplicatingly. 

The man, for one instant, was petrified 
with astonishment, absolutely dumbfounded. 
But, when he had gazed into the brown eyes, 
soft as any gazelle’s, all suffused with hys- 
terical pleading tears, his pulse quickened. 
His heart grew warmer, for a spark had 
at last been kindled by almost ignored Nature. 
He pushed the blonde locks that had became 
disheveled in her excitement back from her brow. 


^‘ladies first.” 


I7I 

that he might see the beautiful face clearer, and 
the father love was supreme. 

Your face — your face ” — faltered Roy in a 
voice choking with emotion, *‘is like your 

mother’s. Your blonde hair ” 

“ Is like my father’s said Tattie, her eyes glis- 
tening with hysterical tears. 

“ You are the little girl that I met at Gold 
Gulch three years ago ? ” questioned Roy, in a 
trembling voice. 

Yes, father,” sobbed Tattie. 

A long, tender embrace, showers of kisses upon 
her blonde head, as she rested for the first time, 
since infancy, in that safe port — a father’s arms. 
All her troubles and woes were forgotten in 
her delight as she clung to him with but one 
lingering fear — that of losing him again. They 
were too happy to notice the intrusion of a young 
Frenchman who was often a guest at Banatyne’s 
house, and at rare intervals, a visitor at his busi- 
ness office. This Frenchman, true to the tradi- 
tions of his nationality, was too polite to disturb 
this, which seemed to him, most affectionate and 
spicy tete-a-tete^ and he quietly left the office, 
thinking that Americans could cope with his peo- 
ple en affaires d' amour. 


172 


LADIES FIRST. 


(( 


CHAPTER XV. 

LE MARQUIS DE BEAUVILLE. 

The Marquis de Deauville turned away, con- 
gratulating himself upon this happy chance, which 
he meant to use to its fullest value in pressing his 
heretofore entirely unsuccessful suit for Tricksie’s 
favor; for, notwithstanding all his boasted blue 
blood, his elegance of manner and aristocratic 
bearing, he had only met with dignified rebuffs 
when his compliments to Tricksie had become 
too ardent. He had first taken up Halstead, think- 
ing to make much out of that gentleman’s appar- 
ent guilelessness in business, but finding the 
honest-looking Nat not quite so manageable as he 
had thought, began looking about for other ways 
and means of replenishing a greatly depleted for- 
tune. 

About this time he fell in with Banatyne, who 
invited him to his house. The marquis was at 
once taken by Mrs. Banatyne’s beauty, and as he 
soon learned, partly through observing closely, but 
much more by a little judicious questioning abput 
town, that she had at one time been regarded 
as of easy virtue, and that even then she was cut 
by her own sex, he felt confident of an easy vic- 
tory. He still further observed that Banatyne left 
her alone much of the time for the more engross- 
ing subject of business, even when he might have 


LADIES FIRST. 


173 


u 


considered his wife’s happiness a little more. Then 
he learned still another fact which greatly intensi- 
fied his interest in the fair young wife, namely, 
that she had a large amount of available property 
in her own name. It was this last bit of informa- 
tion that made the marquis smile most com- 
placently, as he twirled his carefully dressed mus- 
tache, and his red lips parted in joyful anticipation 
of one day holding in his arms the runaway sweet- 
heart who would bring him plenty of money and 
great joy as well, until such time as he was tired 
of her charms, when he could bid her go back 
to her wifely duties. He had not met with the 
success he had hoped for, but, as he cautiously 
withdrew from Banatyne’s door, he felt that he now 
held the trump card which, if carefully played 
would soon win the game he so coveted. On his 
way out he passed young Dougald, who had just 
come up to San Francisco for a short visit, and 
chuckled to himself, saying : “ I shall find out who 
zat boy is. I see him about here tou jours, and if 
he come in upon zat scene interessante I have just 
left he may be much useful to me.” 

Entering his father’s office very unceremoni- 
ously, Dougald was more surprised when he saw 
Tattie there than he was when she was introduced 
to him as his twin sister, for after a most affec- 
tionate meeting, in which tears, smiles and kisses 
were mingled, in equal proportions, he said : 

I am not one bit surprised, Tattie, that you 
are my sister. The feeling must have been bred 
in my bones that you were closely related to me. 
You never did seem to me far off like other 


174 


“ladies first.” 


girls,’ since the very first time I met you at Gold 
Gulch.” 

“ I, too, felt that there was something close 
between us, Dougald,” replied Tattie. “ The 
joy and pleasure that would have been mine 
in all the years that I have not known a 
brother are crowded into this one moment of 
delight,” and she threw her arms about his neck, 
much to the detriment of his shirt collar, and 
exclaimed, “ I can kiss you and love as much as I 
like now, can’t I ? ” 

‘‘You bet you,” assented the boy, as he lifted 
his sister from the floor with a hug 

After a moment’s pause, Dougald became seri- 
Qus. The smile died upon his boyish face and 
left it deathly pale ; he passed his hand across his 
eyes to push back the weeping mourners that 
were threating to come in the shape of tears, as 
he murmured “ Then the funeral at Gold Gulch 
” and paused with pitiful, trembling lips. 

“Was your mother’s funeral,” Banatyne 
informed him, and then his father continued : 
“ Sit right here my children, and I will tell you 
all about it,” and with Dougald on one side hold- 
ing his father’s hand, and Tattie on the other in 
similar affectionate employment, he told the story 
of his first marriage and divorce. 

“ I was married to your mother, Dolores Diaz, 
nineteen years ago the twenty-seventh of last 
October, in a mining camp known as Dogtown. 
You were the result of that union, my children, 
and are twin brother and sister. I was a proud 
and happy father the day of your birth. Then 


“ladies first.’ 


175 


came trouble and disagreements, with the result 
that I was divorced from your mother when you 
were babies, and I left the mines, bringing my 
infant boy with me, your mother keeping the wee, 
tiny, baby girl,” and he pressed the young hands 
that were clasped in his own. 

“We were divorced by mutual consent,” he 
continued. “After the separation, I sent money 
back for the child I had left, and I am not boast- 
ing when I say the sums were not stinted. I did 
this every month for one -year, and every month 
for one year the sums were returned to me. ^ I 
wish you to consider the child dead,’ she wrote. 
I cannot understand why she was so bitter. Per- 
haps it was the thoughtlessness of youth, for 
seventeen years ago she was very young. Per- 
haps I was to blame ; in fact I am almost certain 
I was. We were both very young ; ” here Tattie 
dried his weeping eyes with her own handker- 
chief, a kindly favor he had done for her three 
years ago — when she mourned the death of the 
same loved one — “ and didn’t understand each 
other,” he continued. “Well, time passed; I 
never heard a word from her or you, Dolores,” 
and he looked fondly on his daughter, then added, 
“ A few years ago, I met my second wife — and 
now my children, I must confess the weakest and 
most despicable act of my life, when— I— your 

father ” his voice trembled and refused him. 

Pity was the straightest path to love with Tattie. 
She impulsively stopped his lips with a kiss, and 
assured him, that if he was going to tell of what 
he thought was a fault of his own, they would 


176 


LADIES FIRST. 


( < 


not believe it, because he was just the dearest 
father living. 

‘^You bet you” was the firm conviction with 
which Dougald concurred, and both of his chil- 
dren insisted that he speak no more upon a sub- 
ject that gave them all painful memories, and 
soothed his grief with such loving caresses, that 
he wondered how he had possibly lived so long 
without one of them. 

After smiles had replaced their tears, Banatyne 
told Dougald to take his sister to the hotel, as he 
would be obliged to make some explanations to 
his wife, before introducing his children to the 
paternal home. Under Dougald’s chaperonage 
he thought the hotel was the proper place for his 
sister. “ Come on sister, mine,” said Dougald. 
It did him good to say sister.” 

“ She will need some new clothes and things,” 
said Banatyne. Get her whatever she wants and 
send the bills to me,” he added, his face once more ■ 
beaming with his good natured smile, No 
stinting, Dougald ; remember money’s no object, 
and, with her fine feathers, we will drop the 
soubriquet of Tattie, and I will see that it is 
no longer applicable to my daughter,” said the 
father, proudly. Dougald said he knew just 
what she needed, which was very doubtful. 
After leaving their father’s office, the twins 
did all the shops in grand style : neither of 
them had ever indulged in that pastime, “ shop- 
ping,” before, and Dolores took to it kindly — that 
is feminine human nature — and left the store keep- 
ers in good humor, for their buoyant youth and 


“ LADIES FIRST.” 


177 


happiness seemed contagious, and no doubt, the 
big bills they sent to their father had something 
to do with the production of the smiling counten- 
ances of the clerks. 

“ My goodness ! ” exclaimed Banatyne, as soon 
as the office door closed behind his children. 
‘‘When! When I think of telling Tricksie, the 
cold perspiration breaks out all over me. Great 
Scott ! ! ” and he dried the beads of moisture from 
his forehead as he threw himself into a chair and 
extended his limbs, like a man whose strength is 
spent, and who drops from sheer exhaustion. 

Just then Halstead came in, exclaiming in great 
excitement : 

I say, Roy, who was the handsome young lady 
who just went out? By Jove, a peach! As pretty 
a girl as I have seen for an age. Fm quite gone 
— All broke up — pulverized — mashed;” and he 
leaned up against the wall to support his weakened 
condition, as if every arrow in Cupid’s quiver had 
pierced his heart. 

“A young relative of mine,” Banatyne answered, 
indifferently. 

“ Why didn’t you tell a fellow you were related 
to such a lovely speqimen of womankind ? My re- 
spect — I might say veneration — for you has in- 
creased ten-fold in the last few minutes.” 

Now don’t talk like a lunatic let loose from 
Bedlam, Nat Halstead,” Banatyne said, a little 
impatiently. 

Halstead, unheeding Banatyne’s remarks, con- 
tinued : Roy, do you think a few flowers would 
be acceptable ? And have I your permission to call ? 


178 


‘^LADIES FIRST.” 


Why, of course, old boy, nothing would give 
me greater pleasure,” answered genial Banatyne. 

Halstead’s flow of rippling language rattled 
along with the swiftness of a locomotive, until he 
noticed Banatyne’s preoccupied state of mind — 
which mind was deep in meditation upon Tricksie 
— his base deception of her — upon the scene, par- 
ticularly, when he should disclose to his wife the 
fact of his first marriage and of the existence of his 
twin children. When he thought of these neces- 
sary disclosures his courage failed him. 

Halstead gave Banatyne a retuim-to-your-senses 
slap on the back, and said in a voice half serious, 
half joking : 

** There’s an ominous cloud upon that massive 
brow ; come down off your high stilts, old fellow, 
and tell us all your troubles. Report on your “ Last 
Hope ” not favorable ? Mine not worth a last 
year’s bird’s nest ? 

‘ Not worth a last year’s bird’s nest ? Report 
not favorable ? ’ ” echoed Banatyne, contempt for 
such an insinuation almost consuming him. 
Then his trustful smile lighted up his face until 
honest conviction beamed from every pore and 
all thought of family trouble was banished 
like mist before the rising sun, and Banatyne 
was immediately the mine promoter par ex- 
celle?tce. 

‘ ‘ ' Report not favorable ? ’ ” he emphasized 
again. “ It’s a report that’ll make you fellows 
want to sell your clothes to invest your last red 
cent in the property. Almost solid walls of pure 
and unadulterated ” 


LADIES FIRST. 


179 




“ Draw it mild, Roy,” interrupted Halsted. 

“ The ore assays run sky high,” continued Bana- 
tyne, 

“ In your untamed fancy,” suggested Halstead. 

Why, Roy, your imagination runs faster than 
a skeered mustang,” he added, for Halstead loved 
to draw Banatyne out. 

“ Never was anything like ” began Banatyne. 

“ I’ve heard that before Roy; for Heaven’s sake 
don’t get that old timer off again,” interrupted 
Halstead. 

At this moment, several of the stockholders in 
the Last Hope entered the office, and, seeing 
Banatyne’s face radiant with its broadest smiles, 
symbolic of his satisfied frame of mind, exclaimed, 
“ Hail to the Chief ! ” 

Banatyne answered the salute, by raising his 
hands as far above his head as the length of his 
arms and his feet on tiptoe would permit, and 
shouted, “ Away up, boys, away up ! ” 

The reports are good, then?” asked Jack 
Nelson. 

What a question ! What a useless question,” 
said another friend, “ Can’t you read the report in 
Roy’s face — why waste your words ? ” 

“ Just to quiet your nerves, and to prepare you 
for what is coming, let’s step around the corner; 
I think a little tansy would be the proper caper 
just now.” 

They all accepted Banatyne’s Jnvitation. En 
route he explained that it was a report that would 
make them feel good from the tops of their heads 
to the soles of their feet. Arrived at the nerve- 


i8o 


‘‘ladies first.” 


cure symposium, he lifted a glass to his lips, the 
example being followed by his companions, and 
said : 

“ I tell you those ore specimens are enough to 
make your mouths water. Here’s to our new 
scheme, May the Lord love us, and not call for us 
until we have exhausted the ledge in the Last 
Hope, ” and they drained their glasses in answer 
to the toast. Banatyne explained that if his 
expectations of the toast were realized they would 
live to be as old as Methuselah. 

“What expert did you send to the mine?” 
Halstead inquired. 

“ A reliable, trusty fellow,” Banatyne replied. 

“You know Tom Hays?” 

“ Colder nosed than a fish,” broke in Halstead. 
“ When he says there is one million in sight, 
you can bet your bottom dollar there are 
three.” “ And that man Lutner is no slouch of 
a mine-expert himself,” said Banatyne. “ He shows 
his good faith by selling only a part of the prop- 
erty, and he wouldn’t sell that if he wasn’t ordered 
by his physician (an old friend of mine) to stop all 
active work, and travel. Can’t have too much of 
a good thing, boys,” and they drained another 
B. & S. 

“Well, what are you going to do with the 
property ? develop the mine further ; put it 
on the board ; or sell it as it stands?” inquired 
Halstead. 

“Now, old boy,” said Banatyne, drawing Hal- 
stead aside, “I’ll tell you^ confidentially, just 
what I think, what I am doing, and what I ani 


“ladies first.” 


i8i 


going to do. I never before felt so sure of a mine 
as I do about this ‘Last Hope’ business. No 
question about her paying dividends from 
the word go, so I have ordered a hoisting 
works and fifty -stamp mill. Too big? Oh, no. 
You see there’s a splendid water power and we 
can run at a minimum. Between you and me and 
the gatepost, this goes no further. Lutner is crazy 
as a June bug to sell all his interest, but I’ve tied 
it up so nobody gets it but your uncle,” and Bana- 
tyne gave Halstead an expressive wink. “Now, 
here’s my program, and you must stand in and 
ask no questions: Put it on the Board, start it at 
a fair bed-rock price, so as to let all our friends 
have a whack at it; then boom her! Then sell 
enough stock at the advance to take up the bal- 
ance of Lutner’s stock. Do you catch on? Isn’t 
that a brilliant scheme?” 

“Colossal. Easy as rolling off a log” interjected 
Halstead, as Banatyne stopped to take breath. 
“The public will come in as sure as boys love 
green apples” he added. 

Banatyne laughed all over his face, as he replied. 
“Why, don’t you know that in stocks a new crop 
of fools is born every few years ? and it’s about 
time for a new spring harvest and another shear, 
ing.” Here he turned towards his waiting friends 
with a confident air. “Just assure as little apples 
grow, nobody’ll get the “Last Hope” for the price 
of a box of sardines.” 

“We’ll go in on a shoe string and come out 
with a tan yard sure, this pop,” declared Hal- 
stead with a very pronounced and knowing wink. 


i 82 


‘‘ladies first.” 


and the friends celebrated their sudden ac- 
cumulation of unhatched millions, by tapping 
several “cold bottles,’' in consequence of which in- 
dulgence Banatyne got the “Last Hope” and 
Tattie gloriously entangled, for, as Halstead, in 
the kindness of his heart, guided his friend’s un- 
steady footsteps homeward, his own perambula- 
tors apparently thought that “the longest way 
around was the nearest way home,” judging by 
the many and unnecessary times he cut the side 
walk on the bias, as they zig-zagged like ships 
without pilots, Banatyne remarking in a voice 
that seemed to rival his feet in its waywardness : 

“Now, Nat, (hie) if the last daughter (hie) don’t 
turn out well — ” 

“The last what? ” hiccoughed Halstead, and he 
failed in his efforts to look “as sober as a judge.” 

“ The Last Hope ” (hie) ? “ What did I say ? ” 
asked Banatyne, and he looked irritated that one 
had dared to question the intelligence of his 
speech. 

“You said the last ‘ daughter,’ ” explained Hal- 
stead. 

“ Well you know (hie) I didn’t mean that,” ejacu- 
lated Banatyne, “ because (hie) I don’t know much 
about my last daughter, but if the “ Last Hope ” 
doesn’t (hie) pan out well, (hie) why I’m (hie) no 
judge of a father (hie). Whoop la! (hie) ” and Bana- 
tyne’s pride in his own lucid opinion exploded in 
a rollicking laugh, that had “ one of the finest ” 
been on duty within a mile, these two roistering 
companions might have had the freedom of the city 
extended to them in the way of a night’s lodging. 


“ladies first.” 


183 


“ Roy, you’re getting very much mixed,” re- 
marked Halstead, the cool air having restored his 
own reason in a degree. 

“ My head (whoop) is perfectly clear (hie),” 
Banatyne declared, as they both ascended the 
outer steps of his residence, “ But where’s the 
madame ? ” he continued, as he tried to pull him- 
self together. “You, see, Halstead, I wish (hie) 
my wife (hie) was in the country (hie). She’s not 
always cordial when I have an attack of (hie) 
nervous prostration. (Whoop).” 

A thought passed through Halstead’s sufficiently 
sobered senses, as he took Banatyne’s latch key 
from its owner’s pocket. 

“ I’ll try to play a harmless trick on the Madame 
and save Roy from a well-deserved caudle. I 
think I can manage it.” 

He stood his friend like a closed umbrella up in 
the corner of the outside vestibule, and inserted 
the latch key. Kee, the erstwhile chef of the 
cuisine at Gold Gulch was lighting the hall gas, 
and hearing the click of the key, opened the door. 
In the moves on the chess-board of life, that par- 
ticular chinaman, Kee, had found his way to, and 
was employed by Banatyne as his butler en chef. 

“ Is Mrs. Banatyne in ? ” inquired Halstead. 

“Yes, slir,” answered Kee, promptly. 

“ Well, you needn’t tell her right away that I 
want to see her,” exclaimed Halstead, as yet a 
little confused. 

“ Me sabbee,” said Kee, “ Bloss allee sam bloke 
up. Me allee same good Chinaman.” 

“ Well, that’s what I want,” said Halstead, “ A 


184 


LADIES FIRST. 


good Chinaman to direct me to the boss’s room, 
which Kee quietly did. 

Never did a man feel more grateful for a clear 
coast than did Halstead. Haying tied Bana- 
tyne’s head up in a wet. towel, he put his charge 
comfortably in bed, as Kee shuffled off to tell the 
Madame there was a visitor who wished to see 
her, but who requested that she need not hurry 
as he would wait. The message, however, was 
not delivered, for, immediately as he emerged 
from Banatyne’s room, Halstead met Tricksie face 
to face. She was very much astonished to see him 
coming from her husband’s private apartment, 
and Halstead didn’t feel as nervy as he would 
have done if he had been in her drawing room, 
with a diplomatic speech fully composed for the 
occasion. 

“ I have just placed Mr. Banatyne comfortably 
in bed,” he said gravely, and slightly confusedly, 
and “ I hope he will soon be better.” 

“ What do you mean ? Is my husband ill ? ” 
asked Tricksie with a scared face. 

“ He had a fall,” prevaricated the friend in 
need. 

“ Don’t tell me he is hurt, Mr. Halstead. Don’t 
tell me that,” said Tricksie, and anxious tears 
gathered in her eyes, as she pushed past Halstead 
to enter the room wherein lay her injured lord 
and master, but Halstead restrained her gently. 
“ No, no, I wouldn’t go in there now. His skull 
is not fractured. Oh, don’t be alarmed, all he 
wants is quiet and rest. I thought 1 would not 
call you until the doctor had made a thorough 


LADIES FIRST. 


€ C 


M 


185 


examination, so as to be able to allay your fears. 

“You’re sure the doctor found nothing 
serious?” Tricksie queried, drying her tears with 
her dainty lace handkerchief. 

“ He couldn’t make a thorough examination ; 
said he would be back in an hour, when he would 
be able to tell more about him. Don’t think there 
is any immediate danger,” continued Halstead, 
thoughtfully curling his mustache, “ but I would 
advise you not to disturb him. Don’t go near 
him, as he is under the influence of a strong sleep- 
ing potion, and now seems to be resting quietly,” 
and he opened the door and permitted Trieksie to 
peep in, a privilege she felt thankful for. “ There’s 
a great deal to be gained by sleep,” said Hal- 
stead, and he thought Tricksie a beauty, but not 
as youthful as the pretty creature he had rnetthat 
morning in Roy’s office ; and a sudden desire to 
give his eyes another feast, possessed him. “ Mrs. 
Banatyne, I am loath to leave you alone in this 
distressing predicament; if you have a young 
lady relative in the house, it would give me great 
pleasure to know that you have comforting society 
before I go,” said this arch-hypocrite, the most 
sincere solicitude expressed in his concerned 
tone. 

“ No, I haven’t a female friend or relative in the 
wide world,” said Tricksie, in a voice that sounded 
like a wail to Halstead, who, though disappointed 
at his failure to see the unknown this time, was de- 
termined to make another effort, remembering 
that Roy had said that she was his relative, hence 
the assertion of Tricksie was perfectly correct. 


i86 


‘‘ladies first.” 


As he bade Tricksie good night and left the 
house, he felt that Banatyne was his debtor, and 
he hoped the recording angel would not make 
his falsehoods appear too black. Tricksie, left 
alone in her trouble, walked the floor and meditated 
aloud : 

“ Oh dear ! if Roy should die, what would be- 
come of me ? I would not want to live. I could 
never survive such a sorrow. Oh dear! Oh 
dear! ” and Tricksie buried her face in her hand- 
kerchief and wept some penitential and sorrowful 
tears. 

Presently she was startled by a sound — a pro- 
longed, nasal, deep-chested affair — as it penetrated 
the two-foot wall of Banatyne’s sleeping apart- 
ment. 

She threw up her head, rested her chin on her 
hand, adjusted her ear, and awaited its successors, 
and they came right along, regular, plebian, old- 
fashioned snores. 

Her tears crept back, ashamed of their 
credulity, and her anxious expression was cleared 
by a hopeful look. 

“ I can hear him snore from away out here. 
They sound quite natural. Surely he wouldn’t 
sleep like that if he were in pain. Doctors c_/^ays 
make a fuss about trivial things, just to get up a 
big reputation about their wonderful cures.” Here 
she went on tiptoe and peeped into her husband’s 
room. “ There he is, poor dear, with his head all 
bandaged up ; but I mustn’t go near him, Mr. Hal- 
stead said. My ! how he does sleep. They must 
have given him a powerful dose.” As she turned 


“ladies first.” 


187 


from the alleged sick man, her eyes fell upon two 
large boxes, the results of her latest shopping. She 
toyed carelessly with the fastenings. She tiptoed 
again, cautiously, to her husband’s door. “ There 
he is, sleeping twenty knots an hour ; ” again she 
looked, more pleasantly, toward her recent pur- 
chases. I wonder if it would hurt Roy if I 
should try on those beautiful things ? ” and she 
gazed wistfully at the unopened treasures. “ I 
may never have another chance to wear them,” 
and her pretty lips puckered into a pretty pout. 
“ Crepe^ and all that sort of thing. Ugh ! The very 
thought makes me feel as cold as the headstone of 
a grave.” 

Tricksie undid the packages, glancing around 
nervously, her frightened gaze resting and return- 
ing stealthily towards the door of her husband’s 
apartment like a thief in the night. 

The pretty baubles were exposed to her admir- 
ing eyes. She looked longingly upon the shim- 
mering silk and the lacey softness of the charmers. 
With loving fingers she touched each article in the 
array of finery. She clasped her hands and ex- 
claimed in ecstatic delight : 

“ Oh dear, if I was dying myself. I’d try to get 
up and see how I’d look in those dreamy beauties. 
I will try them on.” 

Tricksie proceeded to decorate herself. The 
first adornment was a handsome, long, opera 
cloak, made of light blue velvet, lined throughout 
with ermine, and, as Tricksie graced the wrap, or 
as the wrap graced Tricksie, as you like it, she 
walked up and down in front of a mirror, now 


i88 


‘‘ladies first.” 


drawing the cloak together in front, enveloping her 
skirts entirely with the rich velvet, then throwing 
the garment back and open, to admire the magnifi- 
cent fur lining. Then she tried that “ adorable 
bonnet,” and then a large fan must be used before 
the mirror that she might watch its graceful moves 
and catch the pose most becoming. 

To indulge this pardonable vanity before her 
glass, Tricksie was obliged to turn her back upon 
the door of her husband’s apartment, and was only 
aware ol his presence when she saw his reflection 
in the mirror, and Banatyne thought, as he watched 
his wife’s antics : “ Poor Tricksie, I do give her so 
much trouble ! This last straw has upset her mind 
completely.” And Tricksie thought Banatyne’s 
injury had made him delirious. She rushed to him 
and insisted that he did not feel well. 

“ Yes, I’m all right,” he said. 

“ No, you’re not, dearie,” she insisted, leading 
him back to his bed. 

“Now lie down, darling. The doctor will be 
back in a moment,” and the more he tried to 
make her believe he was well, the more she 
insisted that he was ill. She bathed his head, and 
cared for him so tenderly that Banatyne 
thought the millenium had surely come. Every 
gentle word, every kind act was a coal of fire on 
his aching head, and he registered an inward vow 
“ never to do so again ; ” and he thought that it 
might be a good time to tell her about his 
twin children, but he could not summon the cour- 
age necessary to disturb the peaceful, loving 
picture in which he was the central figure. 


“ladies first.’* 


189 


CHAPTER XVI. 

CAPTAIN JIM’S WORRY. 

Dougald’s rooms at the hotel had taken on 
that undefinable air that suggests “ a woman 
around.” Pretty bric-a-brac lent a new charm. 
Flowers and ferns were to be seen ; bright bits of 
drapery and bows of ribbon of rainbow coloring 
were placed here and there ; rocking chairs had 
dispossessed some of the straight-back, comfortless 
affairs that seemed to invite visitors to make their 
calls as short as possible ; and that surest sign of 
female presence, a pin cushion, decorated with 
graceful blue satin bows, and well stocked with 
pins, those valiant little aids of women and de- 
spised of men, those avant couriers of a frivolous 
sex — not to mention a straggling hair-pin or two — 
rested in sweet repose, with no fear of causing a 
war of scandal, upon the silk-lined lace covering 
of a young bachelor’s dresser. 

Dolores had been the occupant for nearly a week, 
in fact ever since she had found her way to San 
Francisco and to her father. Not one line had she 
•sent to Captain Jim, although each day she had 
resolved to write him a “ nice, long letter.” Had 
she not intended to make it so “ nice and long ” it 
would have been received at Gold Gulch several 
days before, but she had so much to tell him, she 
couldn’t think of writing it in a hurried fashion. 
No, she must wait until she had plenty of time, but 


LADIES FIRST. 


the time hadn’t come yet, and Captain Jim, on his 
part, was worrying- himself gray over her silence. 

“ What could it mean,” he thought, and immedi- 
upbraided himself for allowing the young girl to 
go to San Francisco alone ; it was most imprudent. 
He concluded that he had neglected hisduty shame- 
fully, and that he would start at once for San Fran- 
cisco to make amends for that neglect. He hadn’t 
the slightest idea where she was stopping. If he 
only knew her address he might write. 

He hurriedly packed his grip. Just as he was 
about to step into the stage, the mail bag was 
thrown out by the driver,, and Kelvyn concluded 
to wait until it was opened, thinking the long- 
looked-for letter might be among its contents. 

Yes, there was a letter. He opened it quickly, 
and read it in as great haste as it had been written. 
It did not change his plans, for he took his seat in 
the stage, and re-read the apology of Tattie more 
leisurely. 

“ Dear Captain Jim : 

“ I have waited almost a week for sufficient time to write you 
a nice, long letter, until I am quite ashamed of the delay ; so 
have concluded at last, contrary to my good resolutions, to send 
you only a hurried line ; indeed it is forced upon me, Captain 
Jim, as time seems to refuse to be at my disposal. I have 
so much to tell you. So much has happened, I can’t write it all. 
Do come on receipt of this. I’m stopping at the Occidental 
Hotel. I’m sure you will enjoy seeing the happiest girl alive, 
in Your affectionate ward, 

Dolores B. 

“What does she mean by ‘ Dolores B’?” won- 
dered Kelvyn ; “ Really girls are very queer crea- 
tions ; and stopping at a big, public hotel ! Who 
ever heard of a young girl stopping at a hotel, 


LADIES FIRST.*' 


191 

alone ? I declare, girls haven’t the slightest idea of 
how to take care of themselves,” and Kelvyn settled 
himself back in the corner of the stage with a 
“ Humph ! ” which grunted exclamation meant a 
great deal. He further thought that she was very 
much at fault not to have written him before, and 
he wondered if she had seen that beardless strip- 
ling of a Dougald Banatyne — and the capital letter 
of that youngster’s surname never took on such 
proportions as it did before fCelvyn’s vision. 

u B ? ” “ B ? ” B ? ” was the accompany- 

ing spectre that lengthened that never-to-be-for- 
gotten stage ride to the distance of the earth’s 
circumference. 

Kelvyn reached San Francisco on regular 
schedule time, notwithstanding that it had seemed 
to him the leaden wheels of the stage-coach would 
never cease their slow revolving. Immediately 
upon his arrival he started for the Occidental 
Hotel. A breezy, airy young couple, in very ani- 
mated conversation, came up behind and passed 
him. Kelvyn’s eyes opened wide, as he caught 
a glimpse of the profiles of Dougald and Tattie, 
who were hurrying along in the same direction as 
himself. 

As the young couple were in advance of him, 
he had an opportunity of noting the elegance and 
style of Tattle’s well-fitting gray dress, her superb 
figure, and how well she wore the paraphernalia 
that goes to make up a fashionable young woman. 
Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes sparkled 
with the buoyancy of youth and perfect health, in 
the enjoyment of surroundings so new to her. 


192 


LADIES FIRST. 


(( 

On thej went, Dougald carefully assisting 
Dolores at the street crossings, or placing himself 
protectingly between her and a threatening team 
in the great procession of a city’s thoroughfare ; 
and Kelvyn following behind with unsteady steps, 
determined to see them to the hotel, which was, 
like his, evidently their objective point, and then 
by the right of legal guardianship, demand satis- 
faction of Dougald Banatyne, if he was not already 
married to Tattie. Married ! the word stabbed 
him to the heart, with as much venom as a poisoned 
dagger thrust by a treacherous hand. He waited 
until the young people had taken the elevator and 
had ascended beyond his sight. Then he almost 
staggered to the office desk, and inquired in a voice 
husky with suppressed emotion, “ Is Miss Lutner 
stopping here ? ” 

No, sir,” brief, but telling, came the reply. 

“ Banatyne? ” hoarsely queried Kelvyn, and he 
passed his hand over his mouth to conceal its 
nervous twitching. 

“ Yes,” answered the clerk. Do you wish to 
send your card up ? ” 

No,” replied Kelvyn, and his head swam, as 
he reeled toward the street door for air. “So 
they’re married already. This is what she wanted 
to tell me,” he hissed between his teeth. He 
started for the street, but in his nervous state he 
was afraid to go far. He must compose himself 
before he could meet her. He engaged rooms, 
and was shown to his suite, which proved to be 
on the same floor with those of the, as he sup- 
posed, bride and groom. 


LADIES FIRST. 


193 


ti 


CHAPTER XVII. 
tricksie’s hornet's nest 

A FEW days after Ban’s fall” Tricksie was in 
her most becoming neglige, lounging in her 
boudoir, when Kee entered, announcing : 

“ A cololed man, alle same one niggler, wantee 
see Missee Blanantlyne.” 

“Has he any packages?” asked Tricksie, the 
inveterate shopper that she was. 

“ Yes, malm, alle time plackages,” answered 
the bland celestial. 

“ Show him in,” said Tricksie. 

In a few minutes, Andrew Jackson Johnson 
appeared, bearing a box, almost large enough to 
contain the flowers of the universe. He would 
have excited .the risibles of a man receiving his 
death sentence. His trousers were made of cloth 
of a dark chocolate and yellow plaid ; his Prince 
Albert coat, almost gone to seed, was a cinnamon 
brown, buttoned up to show his figure, which was 
slim to a degree of emaciation ; his necktie was 
yellow, to match the stripe in his trousers, and a 
large yellow rose was secured to the button-hole 
of his Prince Albert, showing a taste for unity of 
color. Andrew Jackson Johnson was a regular 
colored swell. The whiteness of his teeth, looked 
like a chalk mark across a crow, as he smiled 
expansively, bowed profoundly, and addressed 
himself politely to Mrs. Banantyne: 


194 


LADIES FIRST. 


( i 


Fse de valet to Genl Nath5.niel Halstid. He 
have done requested me to brung dese flow’rs, 
and he done sed, if it’ll be ’greeble to yo’, he" will 
call hyar dis ebenin’ at ha’f past ait ’clock,” and 
he bowed and turned like a wound up automatic 
ebony toy, when it works, and was about to make 
a start for the door. 

Tricksie had been so amused at his elegant 
importance, that she had not caught the name of 
the sender, and she called to him and asked, her 
face wreathed with smiles which she could not 
repress, “ what is the name ?” 

“ Gen’l Nathaniel Halstid,” answered Andrew 
Johnson, as proud of his employer’s title,' as he 
was of his own good clothes. 

“ You’re sure you haven’t made a mistake, as 
to where these flowers belong? ” she asked. 

“ Bress de Lawd, no, indeed,” answered Andrew 
Jackson Johnson, with a broad smile. Fse bin 
in dis bizness too long to mak’ eny mistakes,” 
which was the truth, for Halstead sent more flowers 
to ladies than any other man on the Pacific Coast. 

Banatyne was just entering as Andrew Jackson 
Johnson was retreating. What is it? ” he asked, 
smiling at the pompous fellow. 

Mr. Halstead sends me flowers, and asks per- 
mission to call this evening,” replied Tricksie. 
Well, this is a new departure for him to become so 
excessively formal,” she laughed. 

Banatyne felt a cold chill creep down his broad 
back. 

‘‘ Let me see the box,” he said. “ Why, it’s ad- 
dressed to me, Mr. Banatyne.” 


LADIES FIRST. 


195 


it 


I know/' answered his wife ? But here 
is his card, upon which is written, For the 
ladies." Now, as I am the only lady in the house, 
the flowers must necessarily be intended for me," 
she added with a puzzled look and then an 
amused laugh. 

‘‘ It’s strange," asserted Banatyne, in a slightly 
shame-faced way. 

“ I know Mr. Halstead’s reputation as a lady’s 
man, but he never sent me flowers before, and 
since when has he become so very formal as to 
ask permission to call. Such ceremony from an 
old friend like Mr. Halstead is quite overwhelming. 
Now, don’t you think it odd, Roy?" asked 
Tricksie. 

“ W ell, rather," returned her husband, evasively. 
Then a loop-hole of escape suddenly presented 
itself, and he added : 

He must think it’s your birthday, marriage 
anniversary, or some little event like that," and he 
felt like applying some very vigorous language to 
that irrepressible lady’s man for his inopportune 
gallantry. 

“ Perhaps it is a peace offering for his recent 
neglect of us, for you know he hasn’t been here 
since the evening you had your fall, and the doctor 
thought you were so badly hurt, when you were 
not hurt at all. What hypocrites those doctors 
are, to be sure," and unsuspecting Tricksie’s lip 
curled with scorn for such medical frauds. 

'‘Yes, exactly," said Banatyne, as he gave his 
mustache an upward turn, while his conscience 
gave him an inward twinge. He thought, "That 


196 


“ladies first.” 


fool, Halstead, is sending flowers to my young lady 
daughter; I forgot to tell him that she wasn’t 
stopping here yet. I must try to see him before 
Tricksie does. That’s the only way out of this 
scrape.” 

The predicament did not present pleasant possi- 
bilities to Roy, but he was not a man to let future 
moments of trouble stand in the way of present 
moments of pleasure, so he changed the order of 
thought. 

“Do you know, sweetness, I stand to make a • 
cool million in the “ Last Hope? ” 

“ Why, you lucky old darling,” said Tricksie, 
putting one bare arm about his neck and cuddling 
up closer, feeling that he was a good, stout staff to 
lean upon, as she patted his cheek fondly with 
her jeweled hand. 

“ It wluck, sweetness,” answered Banatyne, “ for 
I tell you my exchequer was getting pretty low 
down,” and he kissed his wife rapturously in the 
excessive delight he felt, consequent upon his good 
fortune. 

“ How many fortunes have you made, lost, and 
given away, Roy, during our married life ? ” asked 
his wife, in a humoring tone. 

“ Let me think,” he said, clamping the tips of his 
four fingers against his forehead, as if to invoke 
memory to his aid, and for an instant feigned a 
brown study ; then he began to enumerate slowly, 
upon his fingers, “ One, two, three, four, five, 
six ” 

Here Tricksie clasped his hands and laugh- 
ingly said, “ Now don’t be foolish, Roy.” 


“ LADIES FIRST.” 


197 


“Well, I really couldn’t count ’em; they’re 
thicker than mosquitoes in a summer swamp,” he 
declared, willing and happy to allow his hands to' 
rest within the soft palms of his wife’s, and as she 
fondly stroked and looked down upon them, they 
seemed to Tricksie to bear the insignia lines of 
good nature and generosity, and she said, without 
raising her eyes to his face : 

“ Sometimes I tremble for your financial safety, 
Roy, and think perhaps it is the duty of a wife 
to a daring speculator like you to hold at least one 
side of the purse strings.” Here she raised her 
head and looked at her husband, her eyes beaming 
with love of him, and added : 

“ Why, really, Roy, I wonder that your reck- 
lessness and generosity haven’t sent us to the poor- 
house long ago.” 

“ Poor house ! ” repeated Banatyne, “ That’s 
better. I thought you were going to say ‘jail.’ 
Well, when we do go, sweetness, we’ll be sure to 
get rooms on the sunny side, for there’s nothing 
like standing up for your rights and getting the 
worth of your money,” laughed her heedless hus- 
band. “ I suppose this means that you want a 
small donation,” he added, with a roguish twinkle 
in his eye. 

Tricksie pouted, for her feelings were really 
hurt. Such a thought had not entered her mind, 
but Banatyne was in sober earnest, determining 
to make some return for his recent escapade and 
deception, in which his alleged wounded head and 
lately-discovered daughter played so conspicuous 
a part, and he took out a number of papers and 


198 


LADIES FIRST. 


(( 


placed them upon a small table as he searched his 
pockets for his checque-book. 

“ I really did not intend that for a hint,” per- 
sisted his wife. 

.“You could never make me believe that, you 
sweet little torment,” he provokingly contradicted, 
and gave her a regular “bear hug.” Then he 
filled out a checque for a good round sum and 
handed it to Tricksie, saying, “ There, you are 
pretty well fixed for the present anyhow.” 

Tricksie accepted the checque, remarking, 
“ Well, you won’t have to force me to take it.” 

“No, I see it won’t be necessary to hold your 
nose,” returned Banatyne, with which very pro- 
saic opinion, he kissed his wife full upon her 
pouting lips, and left the room, saying he must 
hurry and get dressed to see Halstead. 

Tricksie called him back with “ Roy ! Oh, 
Roy ! ” Her husband put his head through the 
door. 

“ Parting is such sweet sorrow,” he began, 
holding his hand outspread upon his chest and 
his head turned coyly to one side, looking 
more like Jumbo than Juliet. 

“ Oh, stop your nonsense, Roy,” said Tricksie, 
laughingly. “ I just wanted to say that I shall 
insist upon Mr. Halstead’s remaining for the 
evening.” 

“ Most assuredly,” returned Banatyne, and then 
he continued, in a feigned, chiding tone : 

“ Now, sweetness, why did you call me back? 
You know how long it takes me to get my back- 
hair fixed, and what an effort it is to tear myself 


LADIES FIRST.” 199 

away from you. Worse than a youngster with 
his first sweetheart,” and kissing his wife again, 
he hurriedly left the room. 

Tricksie turned from the door with a smile in 
her happy eyes, and her husband’s praises 
upon her freshly-kissed lips, murmuring to her- 
self : 

“ How happy he’ll be when I tell him,” and a 
betraying blush overspread her beautiful face as 
she thought of the sweet secret she would soon 
whisper into her husband’s willing ear, and felt the 
eloquent thrill of maternal love for the unborn life 
in its earliest bud. 

“Ah ! when God so blesses me. He will surely 
help me to do a mother’s part nobly.” Her voice 
was soft and tremulous. , 

“ Dear, darling Roy,” she went on, “ God 

bless him. He’s an ang ” that word was 

never finished, for, as she turned, the papers he had 
placed upon the table attracted her attention. 
The breeze had blown in through the open win- 
dow, and the lace curtain had scattered the letters 
and bills about the floor. Tricksie proceeded 
very carefully to gather them up. Why couldn’t 
that particular paper have fallen with its buttered 
side down ? No, there it lay, its great, black, 
inky figures indelible on paper, indelible in 
Tricksie’s mind, turned up to the honest daylight 
and to a wife’s staring eyes. 

What would we do for the transition of scenes 
and diversity of episodes adown the stream of 
life, were it not for trifles ? Trifles make and trifles 
unmake. The scratch of a pen, a breath of wind, the 


200 


LADIES FIRST. 


( i 


flutter of a paper, the glance of an eye, each trivial 
in itself, but each most momentous in results. 

Tricksie crouched down upon the floor beside 
that tell-tale paper. She did not pick it up, but 
turned it gingerly with the tips of her fingers, 
that her hypnotized eyes might read its confes- 
sion, more clearly and without contamination. Two 
great tears gathered, but they were forced 
back. For once she felt too strong for tears. 
Finally she caught the paper up, and crushed it 
in her hands as a crouching feline would pounce 
upon and crunch its prey. Again, and again, 
she closed her revengeful little fist upon the 
inanimate paper, grinding her teeth as if that gave 
her more strength to hurt. She arose, and paced 
the floor. As was Tricksie’s intensity of love, so 
was her intensity of jealousy. She went nearer 
the light, to read that which she thought was the 
indisputable proof of her husband’s unfaithfulness 
— hoping against hope that she might have been 
mistaken at first ; but the words burned into her 
brain and almost broke her poor, little, jealous 
heart. Written upon the body of the billhead of 
a prominent dry goods establishment, she read : 


San Francisco, i86. . 

Mr. Roy H. Banatyne. 

Bought of White, Goods & Co. 

I Sealskin sacque $500.00 

I dozen night dresses, $6.00 each 72.00 

I dozen pairs, extra legnth, silk hose, $5.00 pair 60.00 

*4 dozen ladies gloves, $2.50 pair 15.00 

I reception dress 250.00 

I walking costume. 100.00 


Received payment. 


$997.00 


LADIES FIRST. 


201 


< t 


A dainty creature at any rate,” she interjected, 
her lips curling with superlative scorn. 

'‘None of these articles are for me,” she 
continued, “ for I have made no such purchases, 
and I am sure Roy H. Banatyne could not use 
them personally. Look’s like there’s a woman in 
the case.” Her eyes flashed, and the angry fusi- 
lade came strangely from Tricksie’s lips, for they 
seemed made only for kisses — and to formulate 
sweet nothings. 

“ They can’t be mining implements,” she said 
scornfully, her eyebrows elevated, “ No, no, Mr. 
Banatyne, these articles are not in your line of busi- 
ness,” and her eyebrows descended with a frown,” 
“ unless, perchance, you have taken in a new 
partner.” 

"No time now to ask an explanation ; my com- 
pany is too near at hand; but, my most faithful 
and constant husband, you shall see that two can 
play at your little game.” 

" I will flirt with the Marquis de Beauville 
to-night to such an extent that your heart will ache 
for the next six months,” and ringing for her maid, 
she ordered : " Lay out my violet costume.” 

When the maid had disappeared, Tricksie mur- 
mured to herself, "I have scorned heretofore to 
listen to the Marquis’ foolish compliments. How 
often he has said that he likes me best in violet.” 


202 


LADIES FIRST. 


{( 


CHAPTER XVII. 

THE SLIME OF THE SERPENT. 

Tricksie had never looked more attractive in her 
life than she did that evening. Robed in an 
exquisite shade of violet satin, her beautiful shoul- 
ders and well-shaped arms bare, a large bunch of 
violets fastened in her corsage, a few of the 
dark green leaves resting against her bosom, 
showing to advantage by contrast its snowy 
whiteness. Her blonde hair twisted into a fluffy, 
artistic knot on the top of her dainty head, 
with little feathery locks, just enough to soften the 
contour of her face, straying from the confines 
of hair-pins, and wafting about at their own 
sweet will. While her satin-covered toes were 
not too abashed to peep out with every graceful 
move of her lithe, girlish figure. 

‘T wonder if my husband could offer any ex- 
planation for those bills of feminine finery,” 
she said to her own reflection in a large mir- 
ror; “ the Marquis has good taste,” she con- 
tinued, the first thought, so foreign, suggested the 
second: “ I do look well in violet. How these hus- 
bands do deceive us poor wives,” and she sighed as 
she fastened one of Halstead’s '‘Beauty Roses ” in 
her bosom, the blossom finding a dangerous rival in 
the wearer. “I will try a little flirtation on my 
own account— just to see how my husband will 
take it. I wager I’ll bring him to my feet,” she 
continued. Pardonable vanity, with such a reflec- 


LADIES FIRST. 


203 


i i 


tion smiling at her. “ I shall cool my anger by 
a mild flirtation with the Marquis,’’ she mur- 
mured as she arranged a stray blonde lock more 
to her fancy. “ Well, perhaps I should be a little 
afraid of the Marquis,” she added carelessly. 

“ What are you doing, little one?” asked Bana- 
tyne as he entered the room. 

Tricksie began nonchalantly humming a light 
air and remained in front of the mirror ignoring 
her husband and his question with as much osten- 
tatious indifference as her back could possibly 
make apparent.” 

“ You’re looking very well this evening,” 
said Banatyne, not noticing his wife’s intended 
slight. 

She glanced over her shoulder at him, and 
thought her husband was appearing at his very 
best also; then she turned her back upon him 
again, saying: 

“ Did you address me, Mr. Banatyne ? ” the 
words dropping like icicles from the eaves of an 
ice house, as she readjusted a diamdnd star in her 
hair. 

Yes, I had the boldness,” he answered careless- 
ly, walking towards the other end of the room, 
with a vague idea that in some unaccountable 
way a refrigerator had suddenly, slipped in upon 
his hearthstone. 

‘‘ You see, I hadn’t completed my decorations,” 
Tricksie condescended to explain, “I’m busy 
with the finishing touches. I want to look my 
handsomest this evening. You know the Marquis 
de Beauville is coming.” 


“ladies first.” 


204 

“ Yes, I believe this is his usual evening for call- 
ing,” returned her husband indifferently. 

“ The Marquis is right ; I do look well in violet.” 
This repeated remark, although made to her re- 
flection in the mirror, must have been intended 
for her husband’s ears, for it was spoken in a voice 
so decidedly audible that he could not possibly 
have escaped hearing it. 

“ By George ! he does show good taste,” as- 
sented her obtuse husband. “ The French are 
noted for their taste, you know. Why haven’t 
you worn it before ? ” he asked, as he picked up a 
piece of gold quartz that had found its way upon 
the drawingroom mantel-shelf, and busied himself 
examining it. 

I never cared before to show my appreciation 
of him by wearing his favorite color. Ah, he is a 
handsome fellow,” sighed Tricksie, rolling her 
eyes heavenward. 

Banatyne caught a glimpse of the rolling heav- 
enward movement of his wife’s pretty blue orbs. 

“ Sick? ” he ‘asked. 

“No,” was snapped back at the sympathetic 
inquiry. 

Then Tricksie walked up to him and, looking 
him straight in the face, said : “I wonder if we two 
will ever cease being susceptible.” 

“ You may leave me out in your figuring on the 
future and only wonder at yourself,” returned 
Banatyne, good-naturedly. “ I’m as blind as a 
mole, and can’t see beyond the present, and don’t 
want to.” 

“ I don’t know about that,” answered Tricksie, 


LADIES FIRST. 


205 


it 


with a smile cold enough to have frozen the blood 
in her lips. '' Seal-skin sacques and other expen- 
sive feminine foibles must be donated by a purse 
influenced by a warm susceptibility for the sweet- 
heart so favored/’ and she felt relieved, for she 
was morally certain that that shot would take 
effect. 

Banatyne was too innocent to accept the insinu- 
ation, for he had forgotten all about the purchases 
made for Dolores, even if he had examined the 
bills to see what they comprised ; consequently the 
shaft went wide of its target, and Tricksie realized 
her failure to impress him by innuendo when he 
began to strut up and down the room in a comical 
way, saying : I feel like a regular two-year-old 
to-night. I flatter myself that I am looking very 
handsome,” as he viewed himself on all sides. 

“ Handsome men are not objectionable, provided 
they have a grain of sense,” retorted Tricksie. 

“Ah, there’s the trouble,” said Banatyne, but he 
didn’t recognize the reflection, and left his wife to 
marvel at the nerveless effrontery of men in general, 
and of her husband in particular, and at that crit- 
ical moment Mr. Halstead was announced. 

Halstead’s presence acted like a tropical warmth, 
when rays of the genial sun waft the thermometer 
up in the nineties and Tricksie’s frigid mood 
thawed like ice. 

“ I’m delighted to see you, Mr. Halstead, you 
have treated us cruelly of late. Why, you haven’t 
been here- since the evening you brought Mr. 
Banatyne home when ” 

“ Don’t mention it, please don’t mention it, Mrs. 


2o6 


“ LADIES FIRST.” 


Banatyne,” replied Halstead, actually blushing 
at the remembrance of his deception, and arrest- 
ing the thanks that he imagined were trembling 
upon a grateful wife’s lips. I make my apology 
most humbly,” he continued as he took Tricksie’s 
proffered hand, “ for once I’ve allowed business 
to precede pleasure, but the self-denial has been 
torturing ; I shall never do so again,” he said in 
his most chivalric style. 

“ Very gallantly said,” returned Tricksie smil- 
ingly, and I accept your flowers as the peace 
offering for which you, of course, intended them, 
and wear this one as a flag of truce,” indicat- 
ing the rose which she had placed in her corsage. 

A chill trickled down Halstead’s back as a 
vision of Dolores passed before him, and a sense 
of a husband’s proprietorship for which he had 
the greatest regard, annoyed his scruples, still he 
murmured with the overabundance of chivalry 
for which he was noted, ‘‘ Favored flower ! ” and 
then flashed an inquiring glance at Banatyne. 
The latter fearful lest his friend might, by some 
indiscreet question, let the cat out of the bag, bent 
forward at an angle of acute interest and looked 
intently in an opposite direction. 

“ Since when have you became so very formal, 
Mr. Halstead, as to consider it necessary to 
ask permission to call ? I really think I should 
take offense at such ceremony from an old friend,” 
Tricksie said, with a malicious little pout. 

“ Ah, yes,” began Halstead nervously, ‘‘ the 
flowers, of course, were intended for you, Mrs. 
Banatyne, but the note 


LADIES first/’ 


207 


Halstead ! I say HalsteadJ ” called Bana- 
tyne quickly and almost furiously. 

“ Excuse me one moment, Mrs. Banatyne,” said 
Halstead as he arose and walked toward Bana- 
tyne in answer to the abrupt summons. Banatyne 
feeling master of the situation, his face broadened 
into a smile as he thought of Halstead’s disappoint- 
ment at not meeting Dolores. He watched with 
amusement the comical and furtive glances his 
guest cast on all sides as if looking for a fairy or 
phantom of some kind to enter through the walls. 

“ I say, Roy,” he whispered, pulling Banatyne 
by the sleeve, where’s your young relative ?” 

“Will explain later. Don’t mention^the girl now.” 

Halstead smiled, and replied : 

“ Well, I never would have thought it, old fel- 
low, but your secret’s in good hands,” and unre- 
sponsive Banatyne wondered what he meant by 
that speech ; and just then the Marquis de Beau- 
ville, “ spick and span,” in all the glory of the tai- 
lor’s art and the barber’s science, appeared in the 
doorway, making an appropriate figure for the 
colored plate of a fashion magazine entitled “ How 
to Dress.” 

A nervous thrill of fear ran through Tricksie, 
and for an instant her determination to excite her 
husband’s jealousy by a flirtation with the Mar- 
quis faltered, but the tell-tale feminine articles in 
that hideous black ink acted as a nerve tonic, and 
steadily and without the slightest tremor she ex- 
tended her jeweled hand to her latest caller, 
beamed her welcoming, prettiest smile, and greet- 
ed him most cordially. 


2o8 


LADIES FIRST. 


( i 


“ I’m overjoyed to see you this evening, Mar- 
quis,” she said warmly. 

“ Ze plasair is all mine, Madame,” returned the 
Marquis, making his most approved obeisance, 
allowing his eyes to feast for a moment upon the 
beautiful woman, then, reluctantly turning his 
well repaid enraptured stare from that vision of 
radiant loveliness to the masculine in sombre 
broad-cloth, he responded in a most polished man- 
ner to the greeting of his host, and to the indiffer- 
ent nod of Halstead. 

As soon as the Marquis had an opportunity, he 
said to Tricksie in his best die-away languishing 
style : 

“ Si charmante, Madame, my favorite couleur? ” 

“Yes,” Tricksie answered, “I feel like pleasing 
you to-night,” and she looked wistfully towards 
her husband, who was talking cheerily to Halstead, 
and his jolly laugh grated upon his wife’s nerves. 

“ Cela makes me vaire proud to be,” answered 
the Marquis, and he fixed his eyes upon Trick- 
sie with such a devouring gaze that she involun- 
tarily moved towards her husband for protection, 
but Banatyne was too much engrossed with his 
subject to notice her. 

“A beautiful girl — you and she made a very 
suspicious picture in your office, Roy. I expected 
to meet her here this evening,” said Halstead. 

“ You see how it is, Hal., I couldn’t bring her 
here,” returned Banatyne, in a resigned tone. 

These were fragments of her husband’s conver- 
sation that tingled against Tricksie’^ sensitive ear- 
drum, and spurred her on to desperation. She 


LADIES FIRST. 


209 


<< 


reeled slightly as she turned again to the marquis 
and faced dauntlessly his admiring gaze, saying : 

“ Will you take this seat with me? ” as she led 
the way to one of those twisted figure-eight 
tete-a-tetes that bring the heads almost as close to- 
gether as did the time-honored sofas of our grand- 
mothers. “ I shall claim sole proprietorship of you 
for the entire evening,” she added, as she seated 
herself, the Marquis accepting, with pleasure, the 
invitation so effusively offered him by his hostess, 
declaring, in lowered voice, that he would con- 
sider himself in the seventh heaven of ecstatic bliss 
to be in the possession of so lovely a proprietress 
for the rest of his existence, and that he envied the 
husband to a degree of hatred who had been so 
fortunate as to have preceded him in that delight- 
ful and coveted capacity. 

“ Why do you remind me of an unhappy state of 
affairs ? ” asked Tricksie, in a voice loud enough to 
be heard in the next room, so fearful was she that 
her words might escape her husband’s attention, at 
the same time moving as far away from the Mar- 
quis as the very social-producing piece of furni- 
ture would permit, and laughing in her low, thrill- 
ing, cooing way, that Banatyne loved so well. 
“ Why, even married women sometimes retain 
their sentiment,” she declared, flirting a roguish 
look at the Marquis, which found its way to 
Banatyne. 

Et pourquoi non ? ” asked the marquis, with a 
careless shrug of his shoulders, at the same time 
mentally surprised, for Madame had never allowed 
him to come so near before. 


210 


LADIES FIRST. 


( < 


Tricksie glanced at Banatyne and welcomed an 
impatient expression on his face, but it was not in- 
dicative of jealousy, as Tricksie was flattering her- 
self. Her unresponsive husband was thinking : 
“ Now sweetness is going to make a fool of her- 
self. Women can’t help it, any more than a ledge 
in a mine can help giving out.” 

The dialogue rippled along, Tricksie’s voice 
growing louder from nervousness and her desire 
that her husband should hear every wdrd, the 
Marquis’ more subdued and insinuating conse- 
quent upon what he considered the warmest 
encouragement from Madame. 

At last this proximity to* the man became 
unpleasant to Tricksie and in order to free herself 
from the position she said : 

“ I know you like music. Marquis, for you have 
often told me so, and I can see it in your eyes ; 
the immortal bard says ‘ the eye is the window of 
the soul,’ and never were words more truly 
spoken,” and she glanced over her pretty shoulder 
toward Banatyne to see the effect of poetry, but 
her curiosity and exertion met with no satisfac- 
tion, for her husband was showing Halstead the 
good points in the ore specimen, having first 
decided that his wife was talking idiotically. 

“ Ah, madame,” answered the Marquis, attempt- 
ing covertly to take Tricksie’s hand, which she 
quickly prevented by rising and moving to a safe 
distance. I must acknowledge zat next to ze 
pretty women, zat ze music is ze shrine at which 
I worship.” 

“ I saw it in those tell-tale eyes,” replied Trick- 


“ladies first.” 


21 I 


sie, and her hurried glance tried to fathom her 
husband’s feelings as she walked toward the 
piano, but Banatyne was apparently as uncon- 
cerned as an Apache chief in the wilds of Ari- 
zona awaiting his regular government rations. 

“You nevaire would sing for me, Madame, 
when I have before asked ze favaire so often,” 
said the Marquis in an injured tone. 

“ You have never before found me in the mood 
that I am in to-night,” returned Tricksie going 
quite near her husband and taking from her bosom 
some violets, she placed them in the Marquis’ 
buttonhole, that worshipper having dropped upon 
his knees to be so decorated. Even that master- 
stroke fell as flat upon her unconcerned husband as 
a snow-flake upon a stone, for he only smiled and 
remarked much to Tricksie’s surprise and chag- 
rin : 

“ When you get through having those posies 
planted. Marquis, come here ; I want to show you 
some free gold, the prettiest thing you ever 
saw. There it is,” he continued, as he held the 
ore specimen at arm’s length, he and Halstead 
gazing at it in ecstatic bliss ; “as full of gold as a 
preacher is of prayer.” 

“ Prettier than a smjling infant,” assented his 
staunch friend Halstead. 

“I’ll sing you a little love melody. Marquis,” 
said Tricksie in a weary sort of way as she fully 
realized how futile had been her efforts to kindle 
even a spark of jealousy in her husband. 

“I suppose you bachelors think that we old mat- 
rons never sigh for a romance,” she said, turning 


212 


LADIES FIRST. 


i i 


the pages of her music and glancing at her hus- 
band's indifferent back. 

“ One bachelor is of ze opinion zat one matron 
at least, shouldnevaire sigh in vain, madame,” was 
the Marquis' insinuating reply. 

Tricksie sang in an almost pleading cadence: 

If You Love Me, Darling, Tell Me with Your 
Eyes," throwing all the expression at her com- 
mand in her voice. While her rich full tones filled 
rooms and halls, her eyes would glance at the 
Marquis, but the trembling voice was for her hus- 
band, and Tricksie felt more like crying than she 
did like singing, as she thought how indifferent 
Banatyne was, and that he hadn't shown the 
slightest resentment after all her efforts at a dis- 
tasteful flirtation to bring him to his senses, and 
she concluded that where there was “ no jealousy 
there was no love," and she presumed that some- 
body didn't only have the sealskin sacque but 
her husband's heart as well, and she was accord- 
ingly more miserable than before. 

Immediately upon the conclusion of the song 
the Marquis was at Tncksie's side bending over 
her so closely that she felt his breath fan her 
cheek as he said : 

‘T hope I am to have ze honaire to meet ze young 
lady here zis evening," a suave smile and a fur- 
ther inclination of the head, ‘‘zat I have ze plaisair 
to see at ze office of your husband ze ozer day," 
and he awaited the effect of his words as a blood- 
thirsty assassin watches the result of his poniard's 
fatal thrust. 

“ What young lady ? eagerly asked Tricksie, 


LADIES FIRST. 


213 


< ( 


as she in an apparently careless way plucked at 
the flowers upon her bosom and looked furtively 
at the Marquis to read how much or little he knew, 
not lifting her shading lids lest he should discover 
the agitation in her tell-tale eyes. 

“Ah!” answered the Marquis, opening his eyes 
wider by way of showing his feigned surprise, 
then he half-closed them and shrugged his 
shoulders, as much as to say: “ It is done ; ” as he 
added “ I am sorry to speak,” and he looked re- 
gretful. 

Tricksie toyed with her rings. She darted a 
look of defiance at this man who had dared to in- 
sinuate that her husband was not the perfection 
of truth; the almost glorified image of his maker. 
Her own little suspicion was allowable, but 
nobody else had the right to cast as much as the 
mist of a breath upon his fair name. Such un- 
heard of effrontery 1 Such inborn baseness ! “You 
dare to insinuate— — ” and Tricksie paused. 

“ No,” answered the Marquis, carelessly. “ It 
seem]vaire natural to me if zeMemoiselle knew your 
husband so well, she might know you a leettle.” 

Here again that hideous paper with its ink-dyed 
accusation that she could claim but part of her 
husband’s affection, thrust itself before her . eyes. 
Her proud air became subdued ; averting her 
face from the gaze of the mischief-maker, she 
rested it heavily upon her hands as if in painful 
meditation. The Marquis knew he had struck 
deep, and hawk-like awaited the result. 

Presently she clasped her hands nervously and 
spoke beneath her breath, her eyes, as in a hor- 


214 


“ladies first.” 


rible nightmare, stared calmly into space, the 
rigid whiteness of her face betraying her suffer- 
ing. You did right to speak. Marquis, but you 
must tell me more. What was her name ? ” Her 
voice was calm, only the firm clasp of her hands 
that sent the life-blood to the tips of her fingers? 
dying them a ruby red, told her humbled 
agitation. 

‘‘I did not have ze plaisair to know,” replied the 
Marquis, in a low comedy tone, enjoying a 
Frenchy little chuckle. 

'‘Were you not introduced?” asked Tricksie, 
evincing a cold, dignified surprise. 

“ A French gentilhomme knows'when he is de 
trop,” returned the Marquis, with a low, vulgar 
laugh, " and I left wizout them to see me.” 

“You mean to insinuate,” flashed Tricksie, for 
her pride was again trying to assert itself, “ that 
my husband has an intrigue with ” 

“ Ah, Madame,” interrupted the Marquis, “ I 
do not insinuate. I am sorry to" say the fact stare 
me in ze face ; but he is only like all ze vaire good 
^husbands,” he added, with that shrug of the 
shoulders that meant columns of words. 

“ I refuse to believe you. Marquis de Deauville,” 
said Tricksie firmly, rising and moving as if to 
leave his presence; but he touched her bare arm, 
causing her to shrink from him, as a child shrinks 
from darkness. 

“ You doubt my word, Madame; zen it will be 
necessaire for me to prove it,” said the Marquis 
in a low tone, a mocking smile parting his lips, 
disclosing the gleam of his white teeth. 


“ladies first.” 


215 


“ I defy you to prove that my husband is not 
that which I believe him to be, faithful and con- 
scientious in all things,” said Tricksie proudly, as 
she left the side of the serpent who had become 
at once obnoxious and hateful to her; yet her 
confidence in her husband was very weak. The 
Marquis stood for a moment motionless, like an 
attacking enemy baffled by. a stout defense. 
However, the prize was evidently worth another 
effort, for he again intruded himself upon Trick- 
sie, a Satanic smile lurking about his handsome 
face. 

“ Madame, you me defy to prove ze truth of my 
word ? ” he asked, mockingly. 

Yes, I defy you,” answered Tricksie, coldly 
and calmly, as she gazed, without flinching, 
straight into his eyes, a challenge in her haughty 
stare. 

“ And will zere be some reward for me, Mad- 
ame? For me, whose heart and soul you have so 
long ago read?” pleaded the audacious fiend. 

“ Long ago,” repeated Tricksie in derision. 

“ I haven’t known you but a month, and I wish 
to Heaven I had never seen you,” she added im- 
patiently, waving her hand angrily, as if to 
brush him from the path she wished to pass. 

Ah! Madame, zen you wish to live ze deceived 
wife? You enjoy to live zat way? C’est bien,” he 
returned in a taunting voice, as he shrugged his 
shoulders, and stopped short, with firmly closed 
lips, as if the subject would never be broached 
by him again. 

T ricksie fumbled with her bracelets. She pushed 


2i6 


“ladies first.’' 


them farther up her arm, then pulled them hard 
upon her hands, as if to jerk them off, without 
undoing the clasp. She cruelly plucked the leaves 
from the violets in her bosom, and threw them 
upon the floor. After an instant, holding firmly 
to the arms of the chair, she exclaimed: “ You 
false accuser. How dare you slander a man in the 
ears of his wife and under his very roof? ” 

Again he shrugged his shoulders, and made a 
gesture of feigned protest, by quickly extending 
both hands, then closing them, and dropping them 
helplessly to each side. “ Bien, Madame, you 
force me to speak, when I would razer to be si- 
lent,” he said, “ I really have pity for you^ 
Madame,” he added in a pathetic tone. 

I do not ask your sympathy,” flashed . Trick- 
sie, her indignation thoroughly aroused. 

“ If I prove my accusation, it will not make 

you to hate me, Madame; I may hope to ” 

Tricksie cut his cringing speech: “ Prove your 
accusation,’” she said, “ and never dare to talk to 
me like that,” fairly hurling the words at him. 

As she passed him going from the drawing room 
into the hall the Marquis hissed rather than said ; 
“ Madame not always was so scrupulous.” Trick- 
sie winced at this reflection upon her past. 

“ Will you meet me to-morrow afternoon at five 
o’clock in ze reception room of ze Ocidental 
Hotel ?” asked the persistent Marquis, following 
Tricksie from the room. 

“ Yes,” answered Tricksie, defiantly, “ but not 
for the pleasure of seeing you,” she said with a 
cutting hatred, that made the Marquis wince in 


“ladies first/’ 


217 


turn, “ but to prove to you the falsity ot your con- 
temptible slander,” and she frowned down upon 
the cringing figure who showed a disposition to 
become more ardent, now that they were alone. 

“ And if you see wiz your own eyes zat what 
I say is true, may I have ze hope zat we shall 
go to Paris — Ah! dear Paris, where not only 
riches, but honaire, social distinction, title, 
position, all, will be for you.” His eyes were 
lustrous with unshed tears. He was pleading as 
a criminal pleads for life. 

Tricksie was worked up to the point of 
desperation. “ If what you say is true, you may 
hope almost anything,” she returned recklessly. 

As she faltered toward her husband, who 
was too much engrossed in conversation to notice 
the unusual whiteness of her face or the nervous 
trembling about her pretty, child-like lips. Bana- 
tyne was saying, “ An expert came down from 
Hangtown to-day, and said that it was the talk 
up there that Lutner had jumped the claim, and 
that whoever had bought the property, known 
now as the ‘ Last Hope Mine,’ from him, would 
find that he had no title.” 

What rabbit dust,” returned Halstead scorn- 
fully, as Tricksie approached him to excuse her- 
self, pleading a severe headache, and wishing 
him “good night.” 

“ Too bad,” said Banatyne, but whether the sym- 
pathy was expressed for his wife or his mine, was 
not apparent, and Tricksie retired to her room to 
pass a restless, sleepless night. 


2i8 


LADIES FIRST. 


it 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

READ that! 

When Kelvyn found himself alone in his room 
at the hotel, he tossed his inoffensive valise about 
ten feet away from him with as much venom as 
if it had been Dougald Banatyne himself. The 
innocent overcoat that he carried on his arm he 
threw upon the table as spitefully as if it had been 
his worst enemy. He sat his hat on the back 
of his head, drove his hands deep into his pock- 
ets, and proceeded to walk the floor in vehement 
agitation, meditating upon his wrongs generally 
and upon Tattle’s ingratitude particularly. 

Undoubtedly she was married. His great love 
for the girl would admit of no other solution. His 
pessimistic mood forced him to jump at a conclu- 
sion and totakefor granted that which he dreaded 
most. 

He walked the floor most of the night, marvel- 
ing that Tattle could marry such a rattled-brained, 
sappy stripling. A boy without the semblance of a 
beard — a pretty doll-like face, but no character, no 
manliness. “ Well, I’m not going to worry myself 
to death about it,”Ee said, with determination, as 
he flung himself into a chair. 

Had he reflected for a moment he might have 
fathomed his own heart and discovered that all this 
indignation proved that he was so jealous, and so 


LADIES FIRST. 


219 


n 


“ heels over head in love with Tattie himself that 
he could no more help worrying than he could 
help his heart from breaking within the next 
twenty-four hours, if the situation should remain 
clouded. 

As her guardian he considered that he had a 
duty to perform. But how approach it ? Her 
apparent ingratitude in taking such a step with- 
out consulting him cost her entire sex such 
anathema as men disgruntled by a single caprice 
of one woman do ofttimes lavish free of charge. 

“ I will write to her,” he thought, and he forth- 
with scrawled upon paper : 

“Mrs. Banatyne : 

Dear Mapame : ” 

which only served to light a fresh cigar — the eighth 
one, and the night not half spent. A pure and 
spotless piece of paper again was blemished with : 

“ My Dear Mrs. Banatyne : 

Allow mie to congratulate you ” 

but this fared no better than the first. 

“ I will send her my card to-morrow,” was his 
next determination, “ and see her in the public re- 
ception room, as any other chance acquaintance, 
or stranger, for that matter, would do. I will 
know if all is, right with her and then I will 
leave San Francisco, never to return, and so pass 
out of her life forever. Would to God, she could 
pass out of mine as quickly and as easily !” With 
this wail from his sore heart he went to the win- 
dow, opened it and leaned out to catch the cool 
breezes upon his feverish face. 


220 


LADIES FIRST. 


<( 


So was passing the night with Kelvyn and 
with one other watcher many streets away. 
Although their thoughts were wed upon the 
same themes — imaginary wrongs and self-pity — 
Tricksie and Kelvyn were as far apart as the 
Antipodes. 

Dolores, the innocent cause of all this trouble to 
these two hearts, had slept the sweet sleep of youth 
and an easy conscience. 

Kelvyn’s suffering, coupled with his indecision 
as to how he should act, tortured him into a fever- 
ish state. The morning found him in an almost 
hopeless condition of misery. His face was hag- 
gard, his hair dishevelled, but he had manfully 
determined that he would ascertain, as was his 
duty as Tattie’s guardian, if her marriage had 
been performed according to the strictest letter 
of the law ; then congratulate her and her young 
husband and sincerely wish them all the happi- 
ness in the world. Not one word of reproach 
should they hear from him for her ‘Apparent in- 
gratitude ; the thoughtlessness of youth had 
excused that hours before. 

Not the semblance of a sign, by word, look or 
sigh, of the great love he bore her, except con- 
cealed under a platonic cloak. Not one visible 
regret, lest it might mar her happiness. She had 
written, “ I know you will enjoy seeing me the 
happiest girl in the world.” He said aloud: 
“ She shall see me enjoy it. I will shut out the 
love that is my life, my very soul. I will bury it 
and my heart together.” 

For a moment he stood irresolute, then he shook 


‘ladies first.” 


221 


his great broad shoulders, expanded his chest, 
clenched his fists, and seemed to have taken a 
bracer, for to all intents and purposes Kelvyn 
“ was himself again.” He arranged his toilet and 
went bravely out, with a sore heart, and a very 
’prosaic and insisting stomach, for no food had 
passed his lips for twenty -four hours. 

Tricksie had resolved to see her husband’s 
attorney the first thing in the morning and place 
in his hands every dollar that she had in the 
bank, for it had all been given to her by Roy ; 
the money she would direct him to use in the 
liquidation of all outstanding judgments against 
her husband. She would leave him, she thought, 

“ free of debt, and free of ” here burning 

tears coursed down her cheeks, “ Yes, free of 
me,” she spoke the last three words — they 
were too cruelly obtrusive to be concealed in 
thought. 

Her husband had knocked at her door in the 
morning, for she had not appeared at breakfast, 
and had called through the key-hole, “ Good-bye, 
sweetness.” She had answered with a sobbing 
voice, “ Good-bye.” He had not noticed the sobs, 
nor did he turn the knob. Tricksie had listened 
for that evidence of a desire to see her ; whether 
he was in too great a hurry to get down to business, 
or to company more agreeable she could only 
surmise. 

Before four o’clock that afternoon Tricksie had 
attended to all business matters, as she had re- 
solved. The attorney may have been surprised 
by her serious countenance, because she had 


222 


LADIES FIRST. 


li 


always showered smiles, sunshine and happiness 
upon her part of the world, but then willing one’s 
self from affluence to poverty is a serious business, 
but not the saddest, according to her way of 
thinking. 

She gave Judge Rush, the attorney, a note, which " 
she wished him to deliver to Banatyne at six 
o’clock, if he did not hear from her before that 
hour, as she was contemplating a trip to the 
country, which something might intervene to pre- 
vent ; in which event she would let him know and 
it would not then be necessary to deliver the mes- 
sage to her husband. 

She had dressed herself in her plainest gown, 
and through blinding tears had taken that, which 
she thought might be her farewell look at all of 
the beautiful things “ he ” had given her; then she 
tied a heavy veil closely about her face and went 
tremblingly out from her home, feeling more 
lonely and helpless than when she struggled against 
the breakers and buffets of a business world for her 
meager existence. There was a streak of light in 
the lining of Tricksie’s cloud — the hope that the ac- 
cusation made by a scoundrel would prove false ; 
however, she was determined that if she did find 
her husband untrue, slie would go — she did not 
care where ; she would do — she did not care what. 
There would be nothing left for her to live for. 
She would do some dreadful, desperate act. She 
would not live in the same place to breathe the 
same air as did Roy. 

Late that afternoon Banatyne hurriedly entered 
Dolores’ room at the hotel, and tossing her a 


“ladies first.” 


223 


note, exclaimed : Well of all things ! Read that ! ” 
Then he beat the arms of the chair into which he 
had thrown himself, a rap-a-tap with his open 
palms, as he watched the agitated excitement the 
girl showed in her face as she read, seasoned with 
many interjections of “ Ohs ! ” and frightened 
“Oh mys!” Tricksie’s note, which the attorney, 
true to his name, had delivered three hours in 
advance of the appointed time : 

“ My Husband— for such you are by all the laws of earth, and 
of Church, and if there be such a thing as marriage in the other 
world, by all the laws of heaven : and until now, such you have 
been, by all the loving care, generosity and protection that that 
relationship means to a right minded man ; but a cloud blacker 
than midnight has come between us. If I can penetrate its 
thickness, and find, as I am praying to find, a silver lining, you 
will never receive this note. The proof of this is to be afforded 
me before six o’clock. If, on the contrary, the cloud does not 
clear, you will never see again 

Your unhappy Tricksie.” 

Dolores raised her eyes slowly from the note, 
expecting to see Banatyne in tears ; but to her 
surprise he was calmly smoking a cigar, maybe 
a little more vigorously than usual. That was all. 

“ Don’t the perversity of women beat all?” he 
asked, brushing a fleck of ashes from his coat. 

His cool indifference did not strike a responsive 
chord in his daughter’s heart. 

“ Might it not be possible that men are a little 
to blame ? ” she returned, in defense of her sex. 

“ Not a bit of it,” answered her father. “ Men 
are too busy scratching for a living,” he contin- 
ued, “ to imagine all sorts of silly, improbable 
things.” 


224 ^‘ladies first.” 

“ But doesn’t the tone of your wife’s note alarm 
you?” asked Dolores in surprise. 

God bless you, child, no. It’s only a woman’s 
caprice,” laughing apparently at what he consid- 
ered a good joke. 

But where can she be ? ” asked Dolores, not 
fancying in the least this new phase to her, of her 
father’s character. 

Don’t worry ; she’ll turn up all right,” he said 
lightly, “ but what does annoy me,” he continued 
impatiently, “is that, woman-like, she turned 
every cent of her money over to my lawyer, with 
the expressed wish that all of my debts should be 
paid immediately — that is, as far as her money 
would go ; and although one’s creditors are always 
ready to meet him more than half way, that law- 
yer, like the darned fool that he is, paid them all 
off dollar for dollar, and left me higher ’n a kite. 
Women should never have the handling of money ; 
it’s out of their line,” here he wiped the perspira- 
tion from his face in a nervous sort of way, 
paused an instant without paying the slightest 
attention to the wonder in his daughter’s wide 
open eyes, and went on : “ Now comes a rumor 
that I have no title to The Last Hope, which has 
caused a break in the market, and there you have 
it in a nut shell,” he concluded, waving his hand 
toward Dolores, as if to say, “You know as much 
about it now as I do. Did you ever see such an 
abused man as I am ?” 

He walked the floor as he said, more to him- 
self, than to his daughter, “ Ridiculous. Down to 
bed rock, and don’t owe a dollar. Great financier 


“ladies first.” 


225 


ing that.” Dolores saw at a glance that the fact of 
the payment of his debts was his chief annoyance 
and angry worry. A fellow never knows when 
he is out of the woods then laughingly 
added, “ But it’s an ill wind, they say, that 
blows nobody any good. My credit’s established 
on a firmer basis now than ever, and I can com- 
mence all over again.” 

Dolores had never met her step-mother. When 
she had first discovered her father, ten days be- 
fore, he had said something about an explanation, 
but she had heard nothing more about it. Dou- 
gald had mentioned some rumors and mysterious 
whispers he had heard, and Dolores thought 
maybe her father had good cause for not taking 
his children to the home of the second Mrs. Bana- 
tyne, never dreaming that the fault was, in a 
measure, his own ; but the episode just mentioned, 
particularly the settlement of her father’s debts 
by his wife, which was Dolores’ first intimation 
that her father’s resources did not meet all of his 
necessities, made her anxious to meet Tricksie. 
The wife’s generous act towards her husband 
appealed to her more forcibly, because, if rumor 
was true, nothing good could be expected from 
this particular wife, and Dolores began to ques- 
tion the veracity of Rumor, and thought her a 
goss libeller. 


226 


“ladies first.” 


CHAPTER XIX. 

ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 

In the meantime a scene was being enacted in 
the hall leading to Dolores’ room. Two figures 
— a man and a woman — walked along the corridor 
of the hotel, the man speaking in low tones, 
the woman not answering. Occasionally, when 
he became engrossed with his theme, he forgot to 
walk ; the woman, as if under hypnotic influence, 
stopped when he stopped, and walked when he 
walked. Hotel guests passing by did not notice 
that the woman faltered several times, and that 
the man’s proffered support was spurned with 
gestures indicative of contempt. 

Kelvyn emerged from his room ; he had not 
summoned sufficient courage to meet his ward 
and the day was almost spent — five o’clock P. M. ; 
but he would certainly go to the office this time, 
and send up his card. 

He passed the figures in the hallway, then 
turned involuntarily, for there was something in 
the lady’s manner that attracted him. She tot- 
tered, hesitated, turned as if to retrace her steps, 
but her companion seemed to urge her to recon- 
sider and proceed in the direction in which they 
had first intended. 

As she turned her face, Kelvyn recognized 


LADIES FIRST. 


227 


(( 


Tricksre. Poor frail Tricksie,” he thought, “is 
she tempting now, or being tempted.” 

The object of the thought was of no import- 
ance to him. Just a tinge of pity for one so frail ; 
a sneer of contempt for a woman who had a past 
— a woman who had once erred. To Kelvyn 
there was no excuse, no forgiveness for a sister 
mortal who had deviated from the straight and 
narrow path by so much as an inch, or even a 
hair’s breadth ; she had strayed far and wide from 
the beaten track, and Kelvyn’s prejudice was 
correspondingly bitter. Perfection was a woman’s 
inheritance, according to his standard. 

“ Tricksie is Banatyne’s legal wife now, I hear,’’ 
he thought, and a compassionate smile spread 
over his face for a fellow man so coupled. The smjle 
suddenly gave place to an expression of horror. A 
pain of anguish contracted his fine countenance, and 
he closed his eyes for a second, as if to shut out the 
sight the thought pictured. The truth had 
flashed upon him that this was to be Tattle’s rela- 
tive, her companion. “Great God!” he ex- 
claimed, unconsciously, beneath his breath, “Tattle 
the little waif I found in the mountains, the little 
one whose education I surrounded with every 
care to keep her safe and spotless as women should 
be !” A sudden desire to speak to Tricksie seized 
him. “Yes, for Tattle’s sake I will inquire — I 
may gain some information,” he thought, as he re- 
traced his steps, and soon overtook the figures, 
for Tricksie lacked the fortitude and strength to 
walk quickly to the expected realization of her 
fears. 


228 


LADIES FIRST. 


< < 

Mrs. Banatyne, T believe,” said Kelvyn, lifting 
his hat, and extending his hand. 

Tricksie started and seemed recalled from 
another world. She seized Kelvyn’s hand, as a 
drowning being would grasp some life-saving ob- 
ject that floated within reach. “ Oh, Mr. Kelvyn,” 
she said, in a low quivering voice, “ Tm so glad ! ” 
and she held his fingers tightly, with her two little 
trembling hands. 

“ I’m sorry I startled you,” said Kelvyn, for 
Mrs. Banatyne’s nervousness was illy concealed; 
“You are very well, I suppose,” but he didn’t 
suppose anything of this kind, only an awkward 
commonplace, for he never in his life expected to 
see handsome, happy, reckless Tricksie, such a 
careworn, haggard, white-faced woman. 

“ Oh, yes, yes,” she murmured, as well as her 
excitement would permit, still clinging to Kel- 
vyn’s hand, the Marquis hovering near by, frown- 
ing his displeasure at Kelvyn’s intrusion — “ but — 
but — it has been so long since — since — I saw 
you — ” she stammered on, not for a moment let- 
ting go the support of his hand, as if the slightest 
contact with the strong man was a comfort to 
her. “ It is such an unexpected — pleasure — ” 
she almost gasped the words, as the Marquis 
stood hawklike over his victim; his demon eyeballs 
glaring into her blanched face like two burning 
coals shot from the furnace of hell. 

Tricksie’s wistful eyes, her clinging helpless- 
ness, her anguish plainly visible in every line of 
her pretty childlike face, appealed to Kelvyn’s 
strong manly nature. He thought the woman 


LADIES FIRST. 


< ( 


229 


needed protection, and he concluded to put her 
in the direction to secure it. 

‘‘ Are you looking for your husband, Mrs. 
Banatyne ? ” he asked kindly. 

“Yes,” whispered Tricksie, her lips turning 
an ashy white, and her eyes set steadfastly on 
Kelvyn’s face, “ Have you seen — ” she could not 
finish the question, her head reeled, her lips 
trembling as she clutched a nearby chair. 

“Yes, I just had a glimpse of him,” answered 
Kelvyn, not free from bitterness, “ as he went into 
that room,” pointing down a private hallway 
opposite. 

“ Where ?” asked Tricksie, hoarsely, her eyes 
following Kelvyn’s finger as he pointed again in 
the same direction, down the private hall, 
saying “ Room 152.” 

“ 152 ! ” repeated Tricksie, and she bent forward 
and stared in the direction, asked God to make 
those stubborn walls of 'penetrable stuff that her 
eyes might enter and know. The Marquis’' eyes 
glistened with satisfaction at this unexpected evi- 
dence. 

“With — with — ” faltered Tricksie, her breath 
coming quicker^ as she stared wistfully into Kel- 
vyn’s face. 

“ With his son, I presume,” interrupted Kelvyn, 
carelessly, as he tipped his hat and went his way, 
for the Marquis had moved closer and touched 
Tricksie’s elbow, as if to move on. 

“ With his son ! ” She gasped, trying to 
undo the fastening of her veil. She felt suffo- 
cating. 


230 


LADIES FIRST. 


i ( 


‘‘ His son,” she whispered again, hoarsely, as if 
afraid the very air might hear of the great wrong. 
‘‘ Has this intrigue been going on so long? ” she 
continued, talking in a dazed way to herself, 
although her escort thought that at last she was 
unburdening her woe and turning to him for con- 
solation. 

The Marquis pressed his limp hand closer to his 
breast, saying : “ Permettez moi. Will not 

madame take my arm?” Tricksie brushed him 
aside as she would a scorpion that had stung 
her. 

‘‘ How dare you come near me ? ” she asked, 
as she shrank from him and clung closer to the 
wall for support; her eyes darting hatred, disgust, 
and shrinking horror. 

“ If it had not been for you, I would never have 
known it, and would have been living happily 
with my husband to-day, I hate you for the 
agony I now suffer.” 

The Marquis gave his usual shoulder-shrug and 
said impatiently, Sacre tonnere ! zat is like a 
woman ; she always want to know about her hus- 
band, zen if some one be so kind as to tell her of 
his amours, zen she find ze faute, and he receives 
no thanks for ze pains. Bienf 

“ Ze time will not be long, when madame will 
think different,” returned the Marquis, gloating 
over the satisfaction which was so near at hand, 
for he could hear Roy’s voice, blending with 
female tones, as Tricksie with difficulty, dragged 
herself around the corner of the corridor, into the 
private hall that led immediately to Dolores’ rooms. 


LADIES FIRST. 


231 


<< 


Her lips were compressed, her face deadly pale. 
The Marquis’ eyes were ablaze with the pleasur- 
able satisfaction of an accomplished, fiendish task. 

** The reward is mine, the reward is mine ! 
Will ze proud madame act now?” ran his 
thoughts. “Who has she left but me, to lean 
upon, I like to know.” 

The door of Dolores’ room had been carelessly 
left ajar by Banatyne when he rushed in to show 
her his wife’s note, and Tricksie plainly heard his 
well-known voice. 

Oh, well, let her go. She was a daisy. Pret- 
tier than a cherub, but I’m sick of the whole busi- 
ness.” 

Roy was talking about his mine, but his wife 
thought herself the subject being discussed. She 
saw the flutter of a dress skirt through the half- 
open door ; and heard a woman’s voice say : 
** There, don’t worry, dearie ; it is an ungrateful 
sort of business when you can be so deceived.’’ 

“ I am not worrying — I never worry.” 

Tricksie could endure no more. Reeling, 
she turned, and like a wounded fawn staggered 
away from the door, her escort following like a 
dog satisfied with his expected bone. She 
deigned to lean heavily upon his arm now, for 
she needed support. After all of these years of 
contrition and conscience torture, will she take 
another false step? Will the devil again get 
the upper hand? On, ON would she go, led 
and tempted by that Satan’s agent, who was almost 
gleeful in his triumph. Would no help come to 
save her from herself? 


232 


LADIES FIRST. 


(( 


Still Tricksie walked on, heedless, unmindful 
of the great precipice yawning before her. The 
sudden proof of her husband’s infidelity, and her 
yearning to be away from a scene that pained 
her, even unto death, revivified her almost 
exhausted strength. Her steps became quick 
and more vigorous with the sudden reaction, and 
the Marquis found it difficult to keep pace with 
her. If she could have hurled herself into 
another world she would have gladly done so. 
As they stood waiting for the elevator, Tricksie 
turned and involuntarily glanced back toward 
the room where she knew her husband was. Her 
breath came fast, from overwrought feelings, and 
her haste to put space between herself and her 
heart’s keeper. She never loved Roy so much in 
all her life as she did at that moment. There 
was no jealousy then — only the harrowing thought 
that she was about to give him up forever. 

Then she thought of her child, their child, could 
she half orphan her ur orn babe? Render it 
homeless and friendless These silent yet elo- 
quent appeals to her mother heart, and her cour- 
age failed. With a quick gasp she faced about, and 
started, like a fearless infant in its first steps to 
reach an objective point, before it falls. She 
rushed in the direction of Dolores’ room, 
almost flying, fearful lest her sudden impulse 
should be spent before she saw her loved one. 

Her escort, surprised at this flank movement, 
hurried after his wayward victim. He touched 
her upon the arm as if to arrest her sudden deter- 
mination. “ Have you not of ze pride, one leetle 


LADIES FIRST. 


233 




bit, madame ? ” he asked anxiously. She faltered. 
She wavered. But the magnet of love was too 
powerful ; she did not turn her face again. She 
fairly ran down the corridor, around the corner, 
past the private hall, through the door, straight 
into Dolores’ room, to fall, panting, and almost 
exhausted, into her husband’s outstretched arms. 

“ Why what a state you are in,” said Banatyne,” 
anxiously, as he pressed his sobbing,, hysterical 
wife to his heart, kissing and hugging her in his 
original, vigorous style ; “ There, my darling pet, 
don’t worry.” 

She clung to him now with an inten- 
sity born of her all-absorbing love, Roy’s lips 
pressing hers with burning, lingering kisses, and 
this was the picture that met the astonished eyes 
of the Marquis, when he very impolitely pushed 
open the door which Dolores had closed, and 
walked, unbidden, into somebody else’s apart- 
ments. 

Diable ! Sacre / escaped his angry lips as 
he absented himself with great alacrity. 

After Tricksie’s outburst of emotion had sub- 
sided, and she could with effort control a few 
words, she half-turned her face but did not raise 
her head from its nestling place upon Roy’s 
breast, and, like a weeping child, that had been 
freightened at the object upon which it had at last 
summoned courage to gaze, with half averted 
eyes she asked in sobbing tones: '' Who (bitter 
sob) IS (bitterer sob) she?” (bitterest sob of all) 
and she pointed a trembling finger toward Dolores. 

“ My daughter, by my first wife,” ventured Roy 


234 


LADIES FIRST. 


( ( 


with his head bowed down, looking as sheepish as 
possible. 

“ Your daugh — ” but Tricksie’s ecstasy of de- 
light left the sentence incomplete, as she renewed 
her kisses upon her husband’s lips, then fairly 
sprang from him and bounded across the room, 
caught Dolores in her arms and almost smothered 
the girl with kisses and caresses ; again she 
turned towards Roy, her emotional strength 
almost gone — she would have collaspedhad not her 
husband caught her as she reeled, — and she lay 
crying tears of happiness in his arms, the aston- 
ished Dolores looking on through transparent, 
sympathetic drops that were gathering in her 
eyes while Roy’s trembling hand fondly stroked 
the bowed head of his wife. 

“ You see, Roy — ” came Tricksie’s tearful voice, 
from ifs cuddling place, close against his neck ; 
“ you see — you know — you are my dear love — my 
all — my best earthly possession — ” and her hand 
groped its way to his cheek, and stroked it softly 
and caressingly. “ I wouldn’t like you to love any- 
body else’s daughter like that,” and a smile flitted 
over her face as Roy pressed her yielding form 
closer, and said coaxingly: 

“ How flurried you are. Can’t you tell me 
your trouble, dearest ? ” 

“Well, you see,” faltered Tricksie, her lips 
trembling, “ I didn’t know you had a daughter,” 
and she drew the sympathetic Dolores toward 
her and kissed her most affectionately. 

“ And did somebody try to make you jealous, 
my pet ?” guessed Banatyne. 


“ LADIES FIRST.” 


235 


“ Hush ! ” she shuddered, nestling closer. 

** When you were so anxious to be my first wife, 
sweetness, I was too much in love with you to 
tell you I had been married before, and had 
children ; I could not think of causing you the 
slightest unhappiness. It was my great love 
for you — that ” — faltered Banatyne, as he hung 
his head, overcome with embarrassment. 

“That made you tell me a great big fib,” as- 
sisted Tricksie. “ JV^hy, Tm willing to be step- 
mother to half the world, Roy, if it will only leave 
me you, dearie. Any more?” she asked roguishly. 

“ Yes, my darling twin brother, Dougald,” inter- 
rupted Dolores, determined not to allow another 
opportunity to have him denied, and, with a com- 
mendable spirit to help her father in the hour of 
his trouble. 

“ Are you sure, Roy,” that no more chickens 
will come home to roost?” she asked in mocking 
solemnity. 

“ Honor bright ! ” said Banatyne, crossing his 
heart, and holding up his right hand in comic 
mimicry, “these are all,” and he blessed his stars 
that his conscience was at last relieved of a decep- 
tion that had so worried him. 

“ I am sure, if my son is one-half as handsome 
as is my daughter,” said Tricksie, taking both of 
Dolores’ hands in hers, and looking fondly and 
admiringly into the girl’s face,” “ I ought to be 
a very proud mother, indeed. Your hair is like 
your father’s,” she said, affectionately, “ and so is 
your smile,” and she passed her arm about Do- 
lores* waist, and the two women went over to the 


236 


“ LADIES FIRST.” 


soia. As they sat there, they made a strikingiy con- 
trasting picture — with the odds slightly in Dolores’ 
favor, for she had more youth certainly on her 
side. 

Tricksie was at least ten years older than Tat- 
tle, but she did not look it. Her face was almost 
baby-like in its softness. Every feature, every 
line, revealed indecision — weakness — frailty. It 
was the face of a pretty toy, that men might play 
with, either to abuse or to love — depending upon 
what kind of men it met. 

Dolores’ beauty was of a nobler, stronger type. 
Each line of her face evinced strength of character, 
high purpose of intention. Her lips, although 
decidedly kissable, looked as if there might be 
other duties of more importance for them to do. 
Her eyes, beautiful in sympathy, could flash defi- 
ance at that which did not please them. 

At this moment Dougald bounded in, but 
stopped short, with enforced dignity, confused on 
seeing a strange lady in the room. 

That’s your son, Roy, and consequently mine,” 
exclaimed Tricksie, as she arose and greeted the 
astonished Dougald,taking him affectionately by the 
hands, she added, a happy smile beaming from her 
happy face: ^ You are the perfect image of yOur 
father.” 

So I have been told many times before,” 
laughed Dougald, as he always enjoyed the com- 
pliment. 

How will you like me for your mother?” asked 
Mrs. Banantyne, drawing herself up, and looking 
as important as possible. 


‘‘ LADIES FIRST.” 


237 


Dougald looked first at his sister, then at his 
father, both of whom sat with smiling, expectant 
faces. 

“ I only wish I had the right to the honor of 
such relationship,” returned Dougald, with com- 
mendable, budding gallantry. 

“Well, the honor is yours,” said his father 
proudly, and the picture of the happy family was 
complete. 

A knock at the door attracted the attention of 
the group. A card was the response to the open- 
ing, and in one corner of the tiny pasteboard, was 
written, “ For Mrs. Banatyne the caller’s name 
that it announced was “ Mr. James R. Kelvyn,” 

Dolores danced around the room, holding the 
card high above her head: “Captain Jim! 
Captain Jim ! at last, at last!” she cried. 

“ I like, the way you appropriate my visitors,” 
laughed Tricksie, playfully, trying to snatch 
the card. “ That card is intended for me, look!” 
and Dolores stopped, while Tricksie drew her 
attention to the penciling in the corner, “ For 
Mrs. Banatyne,” but we will not be rivals so soon, 
Dolores, darling,” she said, as she noticed a shade 
pass over the girl’s face and reading her heart 
secret as plainly as if it had been exposed to the 
power of a thousand-candle electric search light. 

“I met him in the corridor, I believe,” said 
Tricksie, passing her hand nervously across her 
forehead, as if to make sure of herself, “ but really, 

I hardly remember. I was so excited and nervous.” 

When Kelvyn entered the room, he was in the 
last state of suppressed nervousness. T ricksie met 


238 


LADIES FIRST.” 


him cordially but Dolores feigned cold dignity. 

“ I don’t know whether I am considered in this 
call, or not,” she playfully pouted. “ I am sure 
you needn’t have been so pointedly partial as 
to specify on your card that you wished only to 
call upon Mrs. Banatyne. No, I don’t think I 
will shake hands with you at all, Captain Jim,” 
was her answer, as she laughingly refused Kelvyn’^ 
proffered, trembling hand. 

I thought that was the proper thing to do,” 
replied Kelvyn apologetically. I did call spe- 
cially upon Mrs. Dougald Banatyne, to offer my 
congrat — ” 

“ Mrs. Banatyne?” repeated Dolores, 

with astonishment, then smiled at Kelvyn’s rueful 
expression. My brother is not married that we 
know of. Good joke ! good joke ! ” she added, 
shrieking with laughter. 

How then? ” asked Kelvyn with a puzzled look. 

“ Do you remember the little box ? This is its 
secret,” replied his ward, her eyes resting fondly 
upon Dougald. 

In an instant the truth flashed upon Kelvyn. 
Dolores had not only found her father, but also a 
brother, and this was what she wanted to tell him. 
What a fool he had been ! 

Such a sudden and pleasant awakening from 
so horrible a nightmare was too much for Kel- 
vyn. He was incredulous of his own eyes. Like 
a doubting Thomas, he must perforce have more 
proof;, he accordingly gathered Dolores unto 
himself, blushes, laughter and all, and stam- 
mered ; 


LADIES FIRST. 


239 


< ( 


Then you are still my Tattie.” 

Tricksie took a snap shot and drew conclusions. 
Dolores extricated herself from his entangled 
arms, saying, as the blushes rushed to her cheeks, 
“ I don’t know about the possessive part of it, but 
I am Tattie, or rather Dolores, now, with a surname 
that I love ; Dolores Banatyne, at your service, 
please your honor,” as she courtesiedby way of in- 
troducing herself to Captain Jim. “This is my 
twin brother, Mr. Dougald Banatyne, also at your 
service,” as Dougald came forward and received 
a friendly grip from Kelvyn that almost crushed 
every bone in his right hand. 

Now, if there was anything besides dress, with 
which Tricksie was conversant, it was the science 
of love. She knew it in all its phases, in all its 
numerous and varying degrees, and she thought 
“ Aha, my icicle ; so Cupid has you in his toils 
at last.” 

“ Hello, Prince James,”called a cheery voice from 
an inner room, and Banatyne came sauntering out. 

“You are just in time to save your property,” 
he said to Kelvyn, with his well-known cordial 
hand shake. “When this pink of perfection,” here 
he indicated Tricksie by an inclination of his head, 
“turned all of her money over to pay my debts, 
and I got notice from that darned fool of a lawyer 
that he had actually paid dollar for dollar, the 
first thing I thought of was, 'There goes 
Kelvyn’s property. I’ve hung on to it like a tin 
pan to a dog’ s tail ; and it’s all there yet, taxes 
paid up, street assessments. All the modern im- 
provements. Everything complete. Nobody’s 


240 


‘‘ladies first.’’ 


been in the house since you left. No, sir ; I 
wouldn’t let ’em set foot in it. Had to do a lot 
o’ repairs on that store property in Montgomery 
street. It hasn’t been rented well of late but 
you’re just in time to save it,” and he gave 
Kelvyn a hearty clap on the back. It would 
’a gone up the flume this time, sure, for now I 
haven’t my wife’s money to make free with any 
more, and must get some cash for emergencies.”^ 

Kelvyn grasped Banatyne’s hand. “ Well, Roy, 
you are not perfect by any means,” he said, “ but 
your generosity ought to cover a pile of sins ; 
we all have our faults, but don’t know it.” 

Of course everything was explained to Kelvyn, 
but not to his entire satisfaction. There was a dis- 
cord in the harmony of arrangements, and that 
discord was Tricksie. He could forgive the 
shortcoming in the man. The generosity of the 
woman he passed unnoticed. The only thought 
he entertained, wherein Tricksie figured, was to 
save his ward from her — as he thought — contami- 
nating influence. He would use his best endeavors 
to keep the girl from such polluting contact. 

Tricksie was overjoyed at the prospect of hav- 
ing so charming a companion as Dolores. At last,” 
she thought, “ my prayer has' been heard, and I 
will have a friend of my own sex,” and inwardly 
she returned heartfelt thanks, and registered a 
vow to try to deserve her friendship. 

The newly made mother felt very important, 
and bustled around like a young hen with her 
first brood of chickens ; of course the rooms at 
the hotel would be given up right away ; Dou- 


“ladies first. 241 

gald, like a good son that he was, would see about 
the luggage ; she had come down in the street 
car, but she would return and send the carriage 
for them ; that is, for Dolores, Dougald and Mr. 
Kelvyn, and they must come up, as soon as possi- 
ble, as it was much past the dinner hour now ; 
Mr. Kelvyn, she hoped, would honor them with a 
long visit. 

“ ’Day, ’day ! Will see you later,” said Tricksie, 
waving her gloved hand like a baby as she left 
the room to carry out her hospitable intentions, 
Banatyne following her. Suddenly he returned 
to insist upon Kelvyn’s dining with them : “ Come 
up to the house. Prince James,” he said, I want 
to show you some ore specimens. The biggest 
mine afloat to-day. Broke a trifle yesterday, but 
she was. on top again to-day at the close of the 
Board. By the way, she’s located in your region ; 
I call her The Last Hope, because she’s my only 
expectation. If she don’t turn out all right .your 
uncle’s gone up the flume,” and he gave a sanguine 
laugh at the mere mention of such an impossibility. 

Then he threw his arm about Kelvyn’s neck 
and whispered something in his ear ; the 
laughing response to which was ; “ No, thanks ; 
not a share, Roy ; a burnt childs dreads the 
fire.” Again he dre^ Kelvyn’s head toward 
him and whispered, to which Kelvyn replied, 

Swore off, Roy.” By this time his wife was 
half way to the elevator, about a hundred feet 
away, and when she turned to look for him he 
remembered her presence and started briskly to 
overtake her, saying, '' All right, Prince James, 


242 


“ladies first.’* 


but don’t forget the dinner at seven. Kelvyn 
looked at his broad back as he hurried away, and 
thought: “ Well, nobody could help liking Roy ; 
even his coat looks genial, and it’s chuckfull of 
good fellowship,” and he turned his face toward 
the interior of the room and Miss Banatyne. She 
and Dougald had commenced that littering occu- 
pation — packing; Dougald, with the haphazard 
impetuosity of boyish youth, eager for a change, 
was throwing things right and left from chiffonier 
drawers, from dressers, from closets, all pell mell, 
like a young cyclone scattering the leaves in a 
flower garden ; silken hose of every color, slippers 
to match, gowns beruffled and beflounced, — noth- 
ing was sacred to his rapid transit method of 
rolling up and tucking in. Dolores had stopped 
when Kelvyn returned, and was trying to do 
the hostess act under very trying circumstances ; 
even when she saw some of her pretty things 
in danger of destruction from Dougald’s rough 
treatment she only gave a little suppressed 
“ Oh ! ” and again turned her attention to 
Kelvyn. Presently, Dolores and Kelvyn found 
themselves almost buried in a snow-drift of 
bewildering mysteries, — sheer, cobwebby, lacey, 
embroidered dainties in lingerie^ their snow- 
flake whiteness relieved by delicate tinted 
ribbons while the aroma of heliotrope sachet filled 
the room. “'I can’t fold those fleecy lacy 
nothings,” shouted Dougald, red in the face ; 
“ I declare girls have so many notions and things 
a fellow never dreamed of,” throwing another 
shower of the unmanageable garments at his sister 


“ladies first/ 


243 


and Kelvyn, saying “ You both fold and Fll tuck 
in/' Presently he held up a P. D. orZ. Z. or some 
other alphabetical combination and said, ‘‘ I say, 
Sis, do you want this ?” when he saw the blushes 
rush into her cheeks and Captain’s Jim’s eyes 
suddenly drop, — he realized he had done something 
wrong, and quickly hid the offending mystery be- 
hind his back, as Dolores said : 

“ Don’t trouble yourself, brother dear ; I will 
finish the packing,” and began to gather her pretty 
incomprehensible mystics ; bashfully shielding 
their outlines from masculine eyes. She placed 
them in an inner room, to be packed with fond and 
caressing hand into a fit receptacle for such dainty 
loveliness, Dougald remarking in a relieved tone 
that he would go down to the office, pay the hotel 
bill and attend to having their belongings sent up 
to his father’s house, as he thought he understood 
that business better than he did packing. “ Will 
be back in thirty minutes,” he informed them,” 
and both of you good people be ready; it won’t 
take the carriage longer than that to come down. 
Remember, thirty minutes,” he repeated, by way 
of impressing them with the idea of haste. 


LADIES FIRST. 


244 


a 


CHAPTER XX. 

TRUE LOVE AS USUAL STRIKES A SNAG. 

Kelvyn was alone with Dolores at last for ^‘thirty 
minutes.” “ Thirty minutes,” to tell a girl of his 
love; “thirty minutes” in which to be raised 
to the seventh heaven of ecstatic bliss or to be 
dashed to the depths of hopeless despair ; “ thirty 
minutes ” in which to be told to live or die. The 
last few days had convinced him how desperately 
he was in love with her. Now that she had a 
father he was relieved from longer service in that ca- 
pacity, but he was anxious to assume a new respon- 
sibility. He nerved himself and made a desperate 
resolve that he would know his fate, “ now or 
never.” If she refused him he could die but once, 
and now was ^,s good a time as any. So he 
started in with cruel bluntness ; 

“ Dolores, do you love me?” 

He tried to ask the question in the same careless 
tone that he was wont to assume in the mining 
camp when Tattie was a semi-savage child follow- 
ing him from place to place, as a pet spaniel fol- 
lows the hand that is kind to it, and when she 
would have answered him: “ Yes, Captain Jim, 
I love you more ’an I love Bruiser ; I love you 
next to mi madre ,"' — but the tone was not the 
same. His voice was strangely tremulous. The 
vibration of the great and powerful love of a man 


“ladies first. 


245 


who had never loved before, — a love that had not 
been dribbled out to this one and to that one, until 
it had been reduced to a weakling. It was all 
there, whole and entire, — and it spoke in his voice. 
It shook his frame like the deep toned vibrations 
of a church organ, which, touched by a finger, 
makes the edifice tremble, so mighty is its 
awakened volume. 

‘‘ Why, Captain Jim ! ” exclaimed Dolores, sur- 
prised at the unexpected question ; — then she hesi- 
tated, and stood shyly abashed. Words did not 
come as plentifully or as readily as they used to 
up in Gold Gulch. After a pause she replied : 

Of course I love you. Captain Jim. How 
seriously you ask the same old question. How 
could I help loving you ?” Haven’t you always 
been kind to me? Wouldn’t I be most ungrateful 
not to return it in some way ?” and she half raised 
her eyes to his, while blushes suffused her face. 

“ I am the debtor, Dolores,” he returned 
thoughtfully. You have given me some one to 
live for, some one to love,” and he took her hand, 
pressed it passionately, the girl only blushing 
more deeply. 

Instead of creeping into Captain Jim’s arms as 
she once would have done so innocently, she in- 
stinctively moved away from him; but he held 
her hand firmly in his unconscious earnestness, 
and with such force as to cause her some pain. 
“ Is it only gratitude that makes you love me, 
dearest ? ” and he bent forward to catch the answer 
like a man anxiously awaiting the verdict that 
tells him he will live or die. 


246 


“ladies first.” 


“ I don’t know,” was the noncommittal answer — 
for the girl had that inborn perversity of woman, 
not to yield too soon, but determined that a man 
must coax her a little to be his wife — and she 
glanced slyly at the clock. Those thirty minutes 
were speeding fast away. 

“ Now that other friends, who have a better right 
to you than I, have come between us, and I see 
you passing away from me, I cannot bear the sacri- 
fice,” pleaded Kelvyn as he clung to her hand. 

Tell me, Dolores, that I may continue to be your 
guardian, — your protector,-^ot in the old way, 
but by all the rights of a husband,” he went on. 
“Tell me, Dolores, for God’s sake, ‘ yes !’” 

“ Yes,” she whispered in a shy little way. Then 
she was so abashed that she felt like hiding her face. 
So she covered it with a blush as Kelvyn folded 
her in his arms, and kissed her again, and again, 
without one bit of fatherly sentiment. 

Dolores was his affianced bride. She was all his 
own. “ Thank you, my darling, and thank you, 
my God,” said Kelvyn, reverently. 

He would have enjoyed remaining that way for 
all time in silent adoration of his sweet love, Reel- 
ing her heart throbs against his own, but those 
thirty minutes were flying, for time waits for no 
man, not even a lover, and Kelvyn had a task to 
perform. He must save Dolores from Tricksie’s 
influence; she must not go to Tricksie’s house. 
He must talk quickly of prosaic, practical things, 
of this common earth. It must be done before 
Dougald’s return, for no ears but Dolores’ must 
hear what he would rather not be obliged to speak. 


“ladies first.” 


To introduce a most unpleasant subject follow- 
ing so closely upon the heels of his exalted love- 
you-to-death ecstacy was not to Kelvyn’s taste — 
but duty forced and time pressed him to be 
quick and to the point. 

“ My darling/’ he said, his cheek resting upon 
her head which was nestling against his heart. 

“ Yes,” answered her muffled voice. 

‘‘ I have something very particular . to say to 
you,’i and his arm drew her form closer to him. 

“ Say it. Captain Jim,” came from the tucked 
away voice. 

“ The subject will be distasteful to us both ; ” 
the last word indicating a union pleasant to 
contemplate. 

“ Then don’t say it. Captain Jim,” she laughed, 
‘*^1 am too happy.” 

“I must, my pet; duty obliges me,” returned 
Kelvyn in a solemn tone. 

“ Then go on,” said Dolores, in a happy sub- 
missive manner. 

“ I don’t suppose you know anything about 
your father’s second wife ? ” he asked ; his voice 
had lost its thrill. He talked like a man who was 
forcing himself to speak. 

“ Never saw her until to-day,” replied Dolores, 
and she shifted her head to make it more 
comfortable. 

“Never saw her until to-day,” repeated Kel- 
vyn in a relieved tone. “Thank God for that! 
Your father has shown more moral discernment 
than I gave him credit for.” 


248 


LADIES FIRST.” 


“ But I learned as much of her nature in one 
short hour as if I had known her a life time/’ 
continued Dolores, and a sad cadence vibrated 
her voice. She is a woman whom a blind person 
could lead,” added Dolores, affectionate sympathy 
for the person discussed decidedly en evidejice in 
her tones, which now came full and round, as she 
had raised her head from its cuddling nest and 
rested it lightly upon his shoulder. 

I am so glad to know that your father has 
some little respect left for the proprieties and public 
opinion,” said Kelvyn, warmly. 

“ How ? ” asked his affianced looking him fair 
and square in the eyes. 

‘‘ How ?” repeated Kelvyn, “ why by not bring- 
ing you in contact with that woman,” he added 
almost savagely. 

‘‘Is she not my father’s wife?” asked Dolores, 
very much surprised. 

“Oh, yes,” quickly answered Kelvyn, “cer- 
tainly by all the rights that the law can give — 
but ” 

“ Well ?” asked the daughter with wide opening 
eyes. 

“ But she, ” and Kelvyn again hesitated. 

“ She, what?” asked Dolores somewhat warmly, 
for this was something new in Captain Jim to 
deal in covert insinuation. 

“ She has a past, my darling,” he said sadly. 

“What past?” asked Dolores, her eyes gazing 
steadily enough on him now, as if to compel a direct 
answer. 

Kelvyn hesitated. 


“ladies first.” 


249 


“ What past?” repeated Dolores ; ^^it is hardly 
fair to strike from ambush, Captain Jim. It is not 
like you,” she added reproachfully. 

Kelvyn started at her tone. 

I have heard some rumors reflecting upon my 
father’s wife,” she continued, “ but rumor is not 
always to be relied upon, except by those eager to 
believe. Make your accusation. Captain Jim. 
Let me hear the worst that she has done,’» 
demanded the girl very much like a lawyer plead, 
ing for a client. 

“ She was your father’s free companion two 
years before he married her,” replied her lover. 

A blush mounted Dolores forehead and Kelvyn’s 
face was flushed with excitement. 

“ Must I also renounce my father ?” asked Dolo- 
res innocently. 

“ No, — no, — certainly not,” answered Kelvyn, 
and a smile passed over his face, he was so amused 
at Dolores’ lack of worldly wisdom. 

“Why not?” asked Dolores surprised beyond 
measure. 

^ ‘ Oh, that which in a man is a peccadillo is an 
unpardonable crime in a woman,” explained Kel- 
vyn, carelessly. 

“ That hardly seems just,” answered the girl, 
meditatively. 

“ Well, just or not, it is the way of the world, 
my darling. It has different codes* of morals — 
one for men and a stricter one for women,” Kelvyn 
went on in an explanatory way. 

“ I have no intimate knowledge of the world,” 
said Dolores, looking as when perplexed ^ over 


250 


“ladies first.” 


some intricate school study, but it seems to me 
that the specific lesson taught by the law does 
not encourage, but represses reformation.” 

Once fallen, never rise : Is that the world’s 
charity to its daughters ? ” and Dolores awaited 
Kelvyn’s answer. He was just recovering from a 
rude awakening to the fact that the little girl, whose 
education he had conducted with such safeguards, 
to produce the perfection seasoned to his tastes 
and ideas, had strange views, that would be diffi- 
cult to reconcile and subdue. 

“ One false step, and she must continue 
down the grade,” went on Dolores, giving 
vent to her suddenly awakened mind, “ her 
brother is forgiven, but no matter what were 
the circumstances that caused his sister’s sin ; 
no matter what her contrition, there is no place 
for her. She must not dare to raise her eyes 
to the honest (?) man who caused her misery. 
Is this the lesson of the world into which I am 
lust entering. Captain Jim?” and her eyes filled 
with sympathetic tears, and robbed her of all 
tendency to strong mindedness in its vulgar ac- 
ceptation. 

“There are many varieties ” he began. 

“Naturally,” interrupted Dolores, “as there 
are varieties and grades in all evil doers, but are 
all of them repulsive and ingrain malefactors ? 
Surely some of them have a spark of individual 
worth. I plead for those who have erred but 
once and are contrite for ” 

“ She is blemished,” impatiently interrupted 
Kelvyn. “ She is unfit. She is ” 


LADIES FIRST. 


251 


( ( 


I’m afraid our views are very different on this 
point, Captain Jim,” interrupted Dolores, as she 
withdrew her hand from his. “ Excuse me, but 
you seem over-exacting regarding the faults of 
women. I am sure my father’s wife has many 
and great virtues.” 

Here the knowledge of Tricksie’s intense love 
for Banatyne, her unselfish bestowal of her money 
to pay his debts, were forced upon Dolores, and 
she continued : “ But the world, and especially 
you of that world. Captain Jim, have not the 
inspiration, or. I’m -afraid, the inclination, to 
appreciate the fact. I saw enough to-day to con- 
vince me of her truth, of her love, and of her 
loyalty. No discussion would make me ignore 
these evidences.” 

“ Dolores, this is a vital question. We will not 
discuss it further,” said Kelvyn.” When you have 
mingled with the world longer, you will acknowl- 
edge the justice of my apprehension of this 
woman’s influence upon you. I ask, as a personal 
favor, that you do not go to her house and be- 
come as one of her family. Remain here for a 
few days longer with your brother. We will 
hasten our marriage, and you will be saved from 
her contaminating influence when I am your 
husband.” 

‘‘ Not go to her house ? Not become a member 
of my father’s family ?” repeated Dolores. 

No, certainly not,” said Kelvyn. Why, she 
hasn’t a lady friend in the world ; of social standing, 
she has none,” he added, with the assurance that that 
statement would settle the question without doubt 


252 


LADIES FIRST. 


it 


in his favor, but his affianced’s answer startled him, 

“ So much the more reason why I should go,” 
said Dolores,- her voice trembling with emotion. 
“ She should not be left to tread her path alone. 
It would be a hard fight for her to wage against 
the devil single-handed. I will lend her such 
service as I may.” 

‘^You will go?” asked Kelvyn in dismay. 

‘‘ Certainly,” answered Dorlores firmly, “ she 
needs me.” 

“ You will sacrifice all ” he faltered, his voice 

echoing his intense excitement and astonishment. 

“ If my views are obnoxious to you, Mr. Kelvyn,” 
and Dolores drew herself up to her fullest height, 
her eyes flashing fire as she thought his words 
implied a threat, ‘‘you may consider yourself 
relieved from the annoyance of listening to them 
again.” 

Kelvyn caught the haughty, indignant girl in his 
arms. 

“ Will you not heed my warning, Dolores ?” he 
asked passionately, his great love mingled with the 
poetic veneration he felt for the girl almost over- 
whelming him ; but freeing herself, Dolores an- 
swered simply : 

“ That would suit my pleasure, the other my 
conscience,” when Dougald rushed in. 

“ Come along, good people,” he exclamed, “ the 
carriage is at the door, and by Jove she’s a daisy. 
Pop knows how to put on style. Not ready yet?” 
he asked in surprise. “ What have you people 
been doing, anyhow? You haven’t packed up a 
blessed thing,” and . Dolores and Kelvyn’s faces 


“ LADIES FIRST.” 


253 


showed as much confusion as did the room, and 
he bustled around helping Dolores to gather up 
the scattered wardrobe. 

The packing finally accomplished, the porter 
placed the trunks on the diminutive hand-drays 
and carted them to the freight elevator, said 
“ Thank ye,” for Dougald’s liberal tip, and 
Dougald, Kelvyn and Dolores hastened down to 
the hotel entrance, where Dougald produced a 
very brief note from Tricksie saying, “ Orders from 
headquarters.” 

Kelvyn read the following : 

“ My Dear Son : The victoria is not large enough for three, 
besides ‘ two’s company.’ Let Captain Kelvyn and Dolores 
come in the victoria, and you, like a dear, good boy, patronize 
the street car. Am awaiting anxiously to give you all a hearty 
welcome to your home. I will always be 

Your loving 

Mother.” 

“These are the orders, Captain Kelvyn, get 
right in,” said Dougald. 

“ Thank you, no,” returned Kelvyn, as he tucked 
the robe carefully about his sweetheart, adjusting 
the foot cushion for her cunning bottines. “ I 
will be compelled to deny myself the pleasure.” 

“ What's the trouble now ?” asked Dougald. “ I 
thought is was all fixed, and you were coming, 
Captain Kelvyn.” 

“ I claim the privilege on this occasion usually 
accorded to the ladies,” said Kelvyn, “ of chang- 
ing my mind. Please make my excuses to your 
father, Fm not feeling well,” and lifted his hat 
with cold dignity, saying, “ Good afternoon,” as 
he walked away. 


254 


‘‘ladies first.” 


Up a steep hill grade, the horses being com- 
pelled to take a winding zig-zag course to de- 
crease the abruptness of the ascent, then down 
a long incline, crossing car tracks — those ever 
present menaces to wheels of which San Fran- 
cisco has more than her proportion — went the 
spanking pair, Dougald laughing and happy. 
Being a boy, he was not expected to be sore tried 
by lovers’ trials for some years to come ; and for 
the same reason he was not hedged in by prudish 
guards or restraints until he felt like a fettered 
bird. Dolores, meditative, because, being a girl, 
her childhood ended just five years too soon. 

Presently the driver drew rein and turned into the 
carriage way of one of San Francisco’s handsomest 
mansions. 


LADIES FIRST. 


255 


ti 


CHAPTER XXL 

HOME CONFIDENCES. 

The house stood on one of the city’s famous 
elevations, commanding a water view which 
could not be surpassed from any spot of earth. 
The great bay of San Francisco spread out like 
an infant ocean, so generous is its magnitude. 

Two massive gates opened in the low railing that 
surrounded the grounds, one at the north, the 
other at the south end. The carriage way wound 
from one to the other, leaving between a circular 
stretch of lawn, in the centre of which a fountain 
sent its sparkling jets of water high, to descend in 
artificial showers upon the antics of diminutive 
gold and silver fish sporting their tiny fins in the 
miniature lake below them. 

When the brother and sister reached their 
father’s home Tricksie met them at the very thres- 
hold, with most cordial welcome. After express- 
ing genuine surprise at Kelvyn’s absence, for 
Tricksie had hoped that Dolores would be a mag- 
net of sufficient power to soften his prejudice to- 
ward herself and to bring him to her house, she 
began the pleasant duties of making her husband’s 
children feel perfectly at home. It was a happy, 
congenial task. 

She had pined so long for female friendship, 
that she almost looked upon Dolores as an angel 


256 


‘‘ladies first.” 


sent from heaven to answer her earnest and 
fervent prayers for some kind friend of her own 
sex. 

She conducted them to the apartments that were 
honored in being assigned to their occupancy. 

“ Now make yourself entirely comfortable and 
at home, Dougald,’\she said. “ Remember, my son^ 
that this is just as much, or more, your home than 
it is mine,” and she kissed the boy, and stroked 
him lightly and fondly upon the cheek. She 
could talk more freely to Dougald than she could 
to Dolores for she had been more accustomed to 
that gender. Anything feminine had given her 
such a wide, wide berth that she felt almost awk- 
ward and shy in the girl’s presence. 

“Come, Dolores,” she said, “your rooms are 
right here, adjoining your brother’s,” and she led 
her step-daiighter into apartments that were 
pictures of dainty elegance. 

“ How beautiful ! ” exclaimed Dolores, as she 
threw her arms about Tricksie’s neck, kissing her 
with impulsive affection. ' 

“ I know you arranged those lovely flowers. 
Everything is so exquisite,” she added, her admiring 
eyes glancing around the handsome appointments. 
“ It is kind of you to give Dougald and me such a 
sweet and cordial welcome.” 

“ Mrs. ,” then the girl hesitated, she did not 

want to say “ Mrs. Banatyne ” and could not quite 
say “mother.” 

The step-mother, perhaps, divining her em- 
barrassment, said : 

Why don’t you call me Tricksie ?” 


LADIES FIRST. 


257 


<( 


I don’t quite like that name,” explained Tattie, 
and she placed her finger under Tricksie’s chin and 
lifted the soft dimpled face as she would have done 
a younger sister’s ; as she looked upon its doll like 
beauty, she said : 

“ I feel more like calling you Baby.” 

“ That would be reversing the order of things,” 
laughed Tricksie, ^^why I am older than you^ten 
years older — as I should be.” 

Well, I am bigger, — yes, ten years bigger, — 
than you,” smilingly retorted Dolores, asshe drew 
herself up, and her queenly height and superb 
proportions overtopped T ricksie by at' least three 
inches. 

“Your father sometimes calls me ‘ Sweetness, ’ ” 
smiled Tricksie in a suggestive way. 

“ An appropriate name,” declared Dolores, “ so 
* Sweetness ’ it shall be.” 

The introduction having been concluded to the 
satisfaction of both, “ Sweetness ” seated her new 
found idol in the comfortable abyss of an easy 
chair, telling her to rest there a moment and she 
would get her one of her own neglig/s, as Dolores’ 
trunks had not arrived. Then she would help her 
off with her dress and assist in arranging her 
hair. Tricksie had no idea of relegating this 
pleasure to a maid so soon. She hurried to her 
well supplied wardrobe and brought her prettiest 
neglige, insisting upon Dolores wearing it. 

Tricksie then took Dolores to her own room, 
where her dresses, wraps, bonnets and other dainty 
apparel were pulled down and dragged out for 
special inspection. Her jewel caskets opened 


258 “ladies first.” 

their treasures, at Dolores’ disposal, and, con- 
trary to her expressed veto, more than half of 
Tricksie’s belongings were moved to Dolores’ 
quarters, to be, as Tricksie declared, that young 
lady’s possessions forevermore. 

“ This jewelry and finery are more suitable for 
a young girl than for an old married woman,” 
Tricksie said, in a happy chummy tone. “You 
will not feel offended if I offer you these things, 
will you dearest ?” and she hesitated, looked un- 
easy, for she was at a loss how to show one-half 
the appreciation she felt for her girl friend and 
step-daughter. 

“ Of course not, ‘ Sweetness,’ ” was Dolores’ 
smiling reply, “ How could I be offended at such 
good-fellowship? ” 

“ Now, I have tired you showing you so many 
evidences of a very weak woman,” said Tricksie, 
as she noticed the girl’s face grow pensive after 
the excitement of overhauling the extensive ward- 
robe ; “but, oh! I just love pretty things,” she 
added, clasping her hands with childish en^^hu- 
siasm ; then, suddenly exclaimed, “ Come, let’s go 
down and see if dinner isn’t ready ; your father 
ought to be home by this time.” 

A sigh escaped Tattie as she thought that Cap- 
tain Jim would not be there, and if his purpose 
held, he might never come. 

“I’ll send Captain Kelvyn a very pressing in- 
vitation to honor us to-morrow,” went on Trick- 
sie fully understanding Dolores’ pensive mien. 

“ He will not come,” said Dolores, quickly. 

“ Will not?” repeated Tricksie. 


LADIES FIRST. 


259 




** No.” Dolores answered as carelessly as she 
could, and forgetting her decision to let her hair 
alone she began to take the pins out of her coil 
mechanically, preparatory to its rearrangement. 
Her light tresses, in which there was a crimple 
made by nature’s curling iron, fell almost to her 
waist like a cape of gold. 

“ Why do you think he will not come? ” asked 
Tricksie, with just a glimmer of impatience, for 
she recalled Kelvyn’s many regrets ” in earlier 
days, and recognized in his refusal now to ac- 
cept her hospitality the stubborn prejudice of 
the world. 

“ Oh, I don’t know,” answered Dolores, care- 
lessly and evasively. 

Tricksie paused for a moment, then asked 
bluntly : Why don’t you cry, dear ?” as she sat 

in a helpless sort of attitude, so willing to do, but 
feeling bound by the shackles of prejudice as se- 
curely as is bound a culprit by the handcuffs of the 
law. 

“ Cry ?” repeated Dolores as she turned from 
the mirror of the dresser, the comb that had been 
running through her tresses arrested by her in- 
tense surprise : Cry,” she again echoed. ‘‘ Why 
should I cry?” and she stared at her step-mother 
in blank astonishment. 

“ Why I always cry when things trouble me 
and don’t go my way. It does me so much good,” 
Tricksie offered by way of explanation. 

I seldom cry. Tears never do me any good,” 
returned the girl, and she jerked an obstinate tangle 
from her hair. 


26 o ladies first. 

“Did Kelvyn make no excuse?” asked Mrs. 
Banatyne in a resigned, harder tone. 

“ Oh, yes ; he said he wasn’t feeling well; which, 
of course, was an excusable falsehood, and good 
enough for the occasion, in his estimation,” and a 
playful hair that had dared to tickle Dolores’ 
cheek was very unceremoniously jerked out by 
the root. And she turned again to the mirror. 

Tricksie knew that Kelvyn had never liked her. 
She knew his supreme hatred for even the sem- 
blance of a spot upon a woman’s character, and 
there was not the slightest doubt in her mind, but 
that she was the gulf separating these two 
young people. 

“ Dolores ” — then the voice stopped short, like 
a person afraid to speak another word. When Miss 
Banatyne turned, what a transformation was 
there ! Instead of the happy, dimply, smiling 
Tricksie, she saw a hard-faced, sadly-troubled, 
deeply-earnest woman. Both of her elbows rested 
upon the table, crushing the life out of the shy 
violets that were nestling there; her head leaned 
heavily and helplessly upon her hands. 

“ Well, Sweetness,” said Dolores by way of re- 
ply. But Tricksie did not hear. There was an 
instant’s embarrassing silence. “ Did you speak ?’’ 
asked Dolores, wishing to arouse Tricksie from 
her unhappy reverie. 

“Yes,” answered Tricksie desperately. The 
color was ebbing fast from her cheek and lip. “ I 
was going to say something, but second thoughts 
are always best,” and she raised her head, rested 


LADIES FIRST. 


<{ 


>> 


261 


her chin in her hand, and stared hard and sullenly 
into space. 

“ Not always,” contradicted the girl, “ Fm here 
to' be talked to,” and her sympathetic voice kindly 
invited confidences. 

Did Kelvyn say anything about me ? ” and 
Tricksie’s lips trembled like a baby’s when one it 
loves seems cross, and she^ looked straight into 
Dolores’ eyes for an answer, until she turned 
toward the mirror and picked up the comb that 
had dropped. 

Did he ? ” again asked Tricksie, earnestly. 

** No,” answered Dolores, and she thought this 
was one of the few occasions where a white lie 
was better than the black truth, and the recording 
angel above was so preoccupied that he failed to 
make a note of her evasion. 


262 


LADIES FIRST. 


n 


CHAPTER XXIL 

THE SLAUGHTER OF “LAST HOPE.' 

Three days had passed. Dolores and Dougald 
were beginning to feel at home in their father’s 
house. Tricksie was full of kind solicitude for 
their happiness. Each day they loved their 
father’s wife better, as the goodness of her heart 
and nobleness of her character developed. 

Kee, of course, was Dolores’ most devoted 
slave. He had made his complaint against Cap- 
tain Jim and the Melican man generally for hav- 
ing suspected his loyalty and honesty, but she 
assured him sympathetically, that she never 
had believed him guilty of the theft of her loca- 
tion paper, and Kee felt correspondingly relieved. 

“Captain Jim,” thought Dolores, “ makes up his 
mind to anything, and then he is more obstinate 
than Bruiser ever dared to be,” but a sigh always 
accompanied a thought of Captain Jim. “Oh, 
dear ; I wonder where he is.” That reflection 
invariably produced a wistful look in her hand- 
some Spanish eyes. 

Kelvyn had not been heard from, a fact that 
seemed to concern Tricksie more than it did 
Dolores. Each evening upon Roy’s return he 
was met with the question from his wife ; “ Any 
news from Prince James ? ” 

“ No, not a word,” had been the answer. 

He had not even called at Banatyne’s office, and 


LADIES FIRST. 


263 


< < 


had not been seen around the Exchange since his 
return to San Francisco. Tricksie feared and 
Dolores felt positively convinced that he had 
gone back to Gold Gulch without so much as a 
good-by to any of them. As far as Tricksie was 
concerned, she would not have expected that 
civility from Kelvyn ; but she certainly felt disap- 
pointed that he had treated her stepdaughter with 
such cold indifference, and how to remedy things 
gave her serious thought. 

Those three days had been rattlers for Bana- 
tyne. The stock market had been as skittish as 
the most frolicsome kitten. The “ Last Hope” 
had been the foot ball with which the brokers toyed 
in their rough and tumble fashion. Now, it 
bounded over their heads, and eager exchequers 
strained their uttermost limits to reach it; then 
a few financial athletics would almost flatten it to 
the floor. Up one moment, until its holders were 
inflated like multi-millionaires, down the next in- 
stant, and they shrunk into pauper-like propor- 
tions. Banatyne was in the full enjoyment of the 
excitement he loved so well. 

The fourth day had arrived, and still no news 
from Kelvyn; Dolores’ eyes had become more 
wistful. Tricksie’s anxiety, coupled with the firm 
conviction that she was the obstacle, went beyond 
her control. Just as her husband was taking his 
hat to start down town to business, she kissed 
him, saying: 

“ Roy, dear, I do wish you would send to the 
hotel and inquire about Mr. Kelvyn ; I’m quite sure 
he is not well. He certainly wouldn’t go back to 


264 


“ladies first/' 


the mines without coming to say good-by to 
Dolores. He’ll think we are worse than uncivil- 
ized to leave him sick in the hotel without even 
so much as an inquiry.” 

“Why didn’t you say so before?” asked 
Banatyne. “ I’ve been so busy or I would have 
looked Prince James up before this. It is strange, 
come to think of it. I certainly will go there this 
very day,” he said, as he went to the corner to 
catch an approaching car. 

The color had rushed into a certain young lady’s 
cheeks. Her heartbeats, she was afraid, were 
audible. She caught Tricksie and squeezed her in 
the excess of her gratitude, at the same time 
making a poor attempt at a pout, saying : 

“ Now, why did you do that, you darling ? ” and 
she gave T ricksie three grateful kisses, with a fourth 
thrown in for full measure “ 1 wouldn’t humble 
myself to inquire after the obstinate fellow. He 
doesn’t deserve it,” she added; notwithstanding 
her objections the expectation of hearing from 
Captain Jim had an effect upon Dolores. Her 
spirits went upward like a feather in the air. 

Just as Banatyne stepped from the street car he 
met Halstead and they hurried along together. 
When these two worthy backers of the “ Last 
Hope ” reached California street it was almost 
impossible for them to push their way through 
it was so blocked, crowded and jammed with 
excited men. They were angry men. They 
were desperate men as well. “There they go !” 
“ That’s Banatyne !” “ The other one’s Halstead !” 
“Two of the biggest liars on top oi God’i 


‘ LADIES FIRST. 


265 


earth !” Wouldn’t believe either of them 
under oath !’’ were some of the remarks they 
heard as they forced their way along. Their ex- 
perienced eyes as well as their ears told them 
something unusual was in tow, although such ex- 
pressions were not new to either of them. They 
had been criticized before, but they knew there 
was more going on than the ordinary commotion 
common to that busy bustling rendezvous where 
so many reckless men had been wrecked and so 
few cautious men rewarded. 

As they reached their office building an angry 
voice shouted over the heads of a group of men who 
were abusing them not in the choicest vernacular: 

What’s the matter with the market, Bana- 
tyne ?” 

‘‘ Don’t know,” answered Banatyne in an indif- 
ferent tone, “ we have only just come down town.” 

“ The story has gained ground that you have no 
title to the * Last Hope,’ ” was hurled back at 
Banatyne and Halstead’s retreating figures in 
bitterest tones. 

Halstead turned in the door’s threshold and 
faced the crowd, saying, impatiently : 

'‘All rabbit dust! Stuff and rot 1 You fellows 
scare worse than jack rabbits anyhow.” Then 
from force of habit he carelessly gestured a bow 
from his hat an followed Banatyne into the office, 
only to emerg the next instant to reconnoitre the 
“ lay out ” hin^self. 

“You’re a nice pair to draw to,” was his derisive 
greeting from ^n angry member of the noisy 
crowd. 


266 


‘‘ LADIES FIRST.” 


‘‘Just hold your horses and don’t let your re- 
marks run away with you,” returned Halstead, 
his good natured lips curved with contempt. 
“Yesterday when the stock was as sprightly as a 
pack of fire-crackers you fellows were like smiling 
cherubs, and to-day because there’s a little slump 
in the market you crawfish like the cowards that 
you are.” 

At this defiance one of the belligerants made a 
wrathful rush at Halstead, who didn’t budge a 
single step, his muscles as ready for active service 
as was his courage for what appeared to be a finan- 
cial crisis, and his color deepened as he shouted : 

“ Suffering humanity ! Lay on Macduff and 
damned be he who first cries hold, enough !” and 
he struck an attitude that showed he meant fight 
if necessary. “ I’ll tackle the whole crowd.” But 
the mere assertion cooled the ardor of their hotter 
comrades and Halstead went on his mission to the 
Exchange to see what the Bulls and Bears were 
doing with the “ Last Hope.’"* 

Three minutes hadn’t elapsed before a curb- 
stone broker rushed into Banatyne’s office ex- 
claiming: “Roy, Roy ! the market on ‘Last 
Hope’s ’ broken all to pieces ! There’s a report on 
the street that there is something wrong with your 
title to the mine and the shorts are just climbing 
over each other to sell it right and left — ^just wip- 
ing the floor with it.” 

“ What infernal nonsense,” said Banatyne, red 
in the face, as he wiped the beads oi perspiration 
from his forehead. “ Why, Judge Rush, the best 
mining lawyer in the State, examined the title and 


“ LADIES FIRST.” 


267 


said it vi^as A i, without a flaw. Runaround 
and tell my brokers all to stand in and take every 
share offered, a,nd I pity the shorts. Don’t sell 
what you haven’t got, boys ; take a fool’s advice.”^ 
Turning to his private secretary he continued: 

‘ Get around and tell the boys not to be excited, 
not to sell their stock; that there is nothing wrong, 
and I say so. Stand by the stock. My title can’t 
be questioned; it’s the biggest buy on the whole 
list.” 

The two men started like winged Mercuries to 
carry reassurance to the broken lines of Banatyne’s 
forces. They almost ran over a messenger boy 
who was progressing, as usual, at a snail’s pace in 
Banatyne’s direction. 

^‘Roy Banatyne?” asked the boy slowly, ad- 
dressing himself to the mine promoter when he had 
finally reached the office and opened the door. 
«A tel—” 

“ That’s me. What is it ?” asked Banatyne, 
snatching the message from the boy so hurriedly 
that the youngster thought a Kansas cyclone had 
struck him endways. He tore open the envelope 
and read : 

“Roy Banatyne: English syndicate in their investigation 
‘ Last Hope ’ have discovered your title from Lutner a forgery. 
Two miners, Sam Williams and Barney Ryan, hold possession 
for real owner, they say, and refuse me admission to mine. 

“Thomas Hayes.” 

As Banatyne was reading Dougald had hurried 
into the office, pale as death. His secretary had re- 
turned so excited he could scarcely speak. 

Great Scott !” exclaimed Banatyne. “If this 


268 


LADIES FIRST. 


( ( 


telegram tells the truth we are a// up the flume.” 
He reeled just a trifle but instantly recovered him- 
self. “ But it’s all damned nonsense. It can’t be 
true. We don’t scare at shadows.” And throw- 
ing himself more erect he struck his expanded 
chest firmly with his clenched fist, saying : It’ll be 
a bigger breaker than that to make me give up the 
ship.” 

Dougald picked up the dispatch and read it 
eagerly. He had just come in from the Ex- 
change where men were wild and riotous, as 
mob law for the moment was supreme. He had 
heard bold threats and he trembled for his 
father’s safety. 

What will you do. Pop ? ” the boy asked, 
drawing nearer to his father as if desirous of 
shielding him irom danger. 

“ Do ? ” snorted Banatyne. Buy every share 
I can get. You and Ed. go back to the Board 
and tell my brokers not to pay any attention to 
what they hear, but to stand under the market. 
We 7nust do it,” added the desperate man. ‘‘Might 
as well be killed now for a sheep as a lamb.” 

At that moment Halstead bounded into the 
room as if he had been shot out of a cannon: 

“ What in the name of the Lord is the matter 
with the stock ? She’s deader than unlit punk,” 
and he flung himself across the desk as if suffering 
a pain in that part of the anatomy that troubles a 
colicky baby. 

“ Only that complication about the title,” cooly 
explained nervy Banatyne. “ The shorts wouldn’t 
have any capital if they didn’t make it out ol 


“ladies first.” 


269 

whole cloth. If they hadn’t started that infernal 
story the stock would be booming.” 

“ What does Judge Rush say about it ? ” queried 
the equally nervy Halstead. 

“ He says the title’s clear — clear as day on the 
face of it,” emphasized Banatyne. “ Go over to 
the Board, and stand under the ‘ Last Hope.’ It’s 
make or break with me'' 

“ Holy smoke ! I’m in the same boat, Roy. 
Won’t have enough left to pay my funeral ex- 
penses,” returned reckless Halstead, laughing as 
if it was a good joke, and he immediately returned 
to the Board. 

He had been gone scarcely an instant when a 
confused sound of feet was heard at the office 
door, then a perfect swarm of messengers, brok- 
ers, frightened-looking women, and desperate 
stock speculators, crowded into the office and 
surged around Banatyne. Angry excitement 
was stamped upon every face. Many of the men 
had staked their all upon his advice, and their 
mood was surly in the extreme. Occasionally 
they broke out into inarticulate and abusive 
clamor. They asked Banatyne questions upon 
questions regarding the property and the cause of 
the market’s decline. He was like a criminal be- 
ing tried by mob law. At this critical moment 
Dougald hurried in and unconsciously added 
new danger to his father’s already perilous pre- 
dicament by shouting above the angry crowd: 
“ Stock selling at five dollars ; a drop of six dol- 
lars per share in less than an hour ! ” 


270 


“ladies first.” 


An enraged murmur arose from the incensed 
crowd. 

“Who are the short brokers?” shouted Bana- 
tyne above the din of discontent. 

“ The whole Board it seems to me,” answered 
back Dougald in a loud voice, the compact and 
obstinate men preventing him access to his father’s 
side. “Whitaker and Clarkson, Sherwood and 
Bently, have obeyed your orders, and are purchas- 
ing stock on the declines, but the cry is still they 
come.” 

The last statement softened the frowns of some 
of the furious people in the assembly until a surly 
fellow growled : 

“ A put up job. I’ll bet my head Banatyne 
hasn’t bought a share, or if he has he’s sold ten 
where he bought one.” 

Here Banatyne’s secretary returned with the 
startling intelligence that the Exchange was in a 
greater uproar if that was possible — the street 
panicky, followed by Halstead walking slowly in 
with debonnair indifference, and a fresh flower in 
his buttonhole. 

“ Thought I’d buy it while I had cash enough 
on hand,” he said, with a devil-may-care chuckle, 
as he pointed to the blossom. “ Well,'you’d think 
Gabriel had blown his last toot this time, sure 
pop. Reminds me of a cattle stampede on the 
plai^is,” he added more hurriedly. “ Everybody 
crazy. 'Last Hope ’ selling at three-fifty ! Just 
think of it. I bought a block yesterday at twelve 
dollars. Oh, Lord ! ” and he sank into a chair, 
with a hearty laugh and a reckless comedy air 


“ LADIES FIRST.” 


271 


strangely out of tune with the groans and the 
hisses of desperately exasperated men, who, find- 
ing themselves paupers, pushed closer to him and 
Banatyne with dangerous gleams darting from 
their angry eyes. 

In a moment Halstead sprang to his feet. 

What’s the matter with you all ? ” he shouted 
excitedly. Aren’t you men ? Can’t you stand 
a momentary collapse in the market without 
squealing? I’ve got ten shares where you may 
have one, and I’m not pleading the baby act, 
am I ? ” 

“ I’ll wager this bit, which is about all I have 
left,” sneered a heavy loser, “ that you and Bana- 
tyne have unloaded at high figures ; that neither 
of you have a share left.” 

“You couldn’t find one in this crowd to take 
that bet,” was the insinuation from another. 

“ No, we want enough carfare to ride home to 
our wives ; they are beggars,’^ snarled a third. 

“ W ell, we are all pretty well loaded with Bana- 
tyne and Halstead’s stock ; they have the profits 
but I wouldn’t like to be burdened with their 
consciences,” was another compliment for their 
burning ears. 

“ You’re ail talking like a lot o’ putty men. I’m 
up to my neck in that stock,” declared Halstead, 
“ and so is Banatyne, and that’s a dead moral cer- 
1 tainty,” he added vindictively, rage flashing from 
his eyes, for he was telling the truth and dared 
face his accusers. 

“ Oh ! yes, you are,” snarled a disgusted individ- 
ual ; “ we’ve heard that dodge before.”. 


272 


“ LADIES FIRST.’* 


Just in the nick of time as if to prove their in- 
nocence, several messenger boys entered Bana- 
tyne’s office and cried above the confused mutter- 
ings : 

Mr. Roy Banatyne ?” 

“ Here !” sounded Banatyne’s voice from the 
midst of his surrounding complainants. The boys 
pushed through the crowd to Banatyne, each one 
handing him a sealed envelope : 

‘^Ah ! Here are some reports from the brokers 
and 111 give you all the benefit of what they have 
to say,” and Banatyne read the first report 
aloud, more to relieve himself from an uncom- 
fortably cramped position than to clear his record 
of an accusation. 

“ Bought for your account 1,700 shares ‘Last 
Hope ’ at $10.00.” 

“ That must have been at the opening and before 
the break,” laughed Banatyne, and his smile was 
reflected in some of the hitherto frowning faces. 
“Ah ! here’s another,” he continued, as a second 
boy handed him an insignificant looking paper 
which read : 

“ Bought for your account 3,200 shares ‘ Last 
Hope ’ at $8.00.” “ Whew!” said Banatyne, “ that’s 
a pretty big drop but he smiled his careless 
smile. 

“ Here’s another, ‘ 2,850 shares at $5,’ and — 
Great Scott I here’s the clincjier, ‘ 3,200 shares 
from five dollars down to three.’ ” 

“ That is hell a mile,” and Banatyne would have 
indulged in other energetic Anglo-Saxon phrases 
but the reports didn’t give him time, for they 


LADIES FIRST. 


273 


u 

came irom the brokers thick and fast like snow- 
flakes in a blizzard; but Banatyne with steady 
nerve and firm voice faced the storm and read his 
own and Halstead’s doom without a quiver. 

“ You see, boys, we’ve been standing in instead 
of letting go. The market is heavily oversold,” 
he said. 

“ Yes, and sure as boys slide down cellar doors 
those shorts will be clamoring for stock soon. 
They shan’t borrow nary a share from me,” said 
Halstead, with an expressive wink. 

They won’t get any of mine,” declared Bana- 
tyne, stroking his beard. 

Nor mine,” answered some of the crowd, with 
revivified hope, their anger having changed to ad- 
miration for such plucky cool-headed specula- 
tors. 

Here another messenger boy pushed his way to 
Banatyne. 

“ The cry is still they come !” shouted the mine 
manipulator as he waved his hand in air with a 
defiant gesture which said plainer than words: 

Here I stand like a rock. You can’t down me. 
I still live. Come on !” and he read the following 
report without turning a hair : 

Bought for your account 18,900 shares ^ Last 
Hope ’ at one dollar and four bits per share” 

Suffering humanity !” ejaculated Halstead. 

Well, that’s rubbing the hair the wrong way and 
no mistake.” His lips compressed perceptibly 
and a momentary pallor spread over his face, but a 
quick gasp acted like a supporting prop and he 
said, a happy-go-lucky smile broadening his face : 


274 


‘ LADIES FIRST. 


“ It’s a little rocky, boys, but never say die, 
Hope springs eternal in the human breast !” “ It 
can’t go any lower than that for they have our 
orders to take it all 2X that limit,” he concluded, 
with a sweeping wave of his hand, and he and 
Banatyne looked the brace of daring, reckless, 
leading speculators that they Avere. 

The fellow laughs longest Avho laughs last, — 
and my laughing time hasn’t come yet,” added 
Halstead, with that smile that robbed him of his 
hayseed guilelessness, and transformed him into the 
bold and defiant manipulator that many knew Nat 
Halstead to be. 

We sympathize with you, old fellows; we are 
all in the same boat,” said one of the men in 
the crowd, voicing the sentiments of his com- 
rades. 

That’s all right, boys, the boat won’t sink. 
Our ship’ll be on top,” went on Banatyne, cheerily, 
the crowd thirsting for his every encouraging 
word. The worst is over,” he continued. ‘‘ Come 
here in the morning, and we’ll have some good 
news that’ll make the bears hunt their holes.” 

The dauntless courage of these two speculators, 
their very assurance, their sanguine hope, were 
absorbed by their co-sufferers, and, after giving 
three cheers for Banatyne and Halstead, the 
assemblage dispersed, feeling better for having 
listened to such optimistic views that accorded 
with their hopes. 

As soon as he and Halstead were alone, and 
after fairly mopping the perspiration from their 
foreheads, necks and hands, Banatyne said : 


LADIES FIRST. 


275 


<< 


I think we’ve bought about sixty thousand 
shares to-day ; I have one hundred thousand, 
including Lutner’s shares, in the box ; that leaves 
about forty thousand shares out.” 

“ I don’t think there is that much stock out,” 
said Halstead. “ I imagine we have more of the 
pie than you think. Oh, we’re in for it now, Roy. 
as the terrier said to the rat.” 

“ Perhaps you’re right,” returned Banatyne, 
“ Now, if I can get some favorable news to-night 
from the mine, and see that damned Lutner, and 
clear up the title business ” 

“ We’ll squeeze the shorts so to-morrow they’ll 
think their time’s come, sure pop,” interrupted 
Halstead.” 

. Here Banatyne took his watch from his pocket 
and, looking at it in a meditative way, he con- 
tinued : “ It’s after Board hours. They may fume 
and howl, but we can’t be called upon to pay for 
to-day’s purchases before two o’clock to-morrow^ 
— so let to-morrow take care of itself!” and he 
closed his watch with a quick snap, then stroked 
his beard, adding : “ This looks like the smallest- 
sized hole we ever had to squeeze through.” In 
an instant his meditative mood was cast adrift, 
and his always hopeful, buoyant spirit was again 
holding sway. “ Pshaw ! ” he said, “ there’s no 
such word as fail. Up the flume?” and he smiled 
at the utter impossibility of such an event. “ Oh | 
no, I guess not,” said Halstead with sanguine 
assurance, and they went around the corner and 
tapped a cold bottle for “ The Last Hope.” 


276 


“ LADIES FIRST, 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

SEND FOR ' CAPTAIN JIM.’ ” 

Tricksie and Dolores had thought and talked 
all day of Kelvyn until their nerves were on a 
strain. First, they thought he had returned to 
the mines without calling, and ‘‘ He was as mean 
as it is possible for a man to be ; ” A cold un- 
sociable fellow.” Then another picture presented 
itself : “ Something horrible has happened to him ; 
he has met with foul play.” Yes, there are so 
many reckless characters in San Francisco who 
would kill a man for a two-and-a-half gold piece.” 
The final conclusion was that he was sick. Yes,” 
said Dolores, and all alone ; not a soul to hand 
him a drink of water,” and her eyes moistened 
as she thought : Will my father never come ? ” 

Banatyne was a little late for dinner. His wife 
and daughter both felt confident that he was at 
Kelvyn’s sick bed. 

Do you think it would be wrong for me to go 
and take care of Captain Jim in his illness?” 
Dolores asked, plaintively. 

‘‘We will try to prevail upon him to come here 
if he is able to be moved,” had been Tricksie’s 
answer, feeling confident that such arrangement 
would please Dolores, and, at the same time, give 
Tricksie an opportunity to try and soften his pre- 
judice towards her, which she doubly desired now 
that there was a possibility that Kelvyn might 


“ LADIES FIRST.” 


•277 

become a member of the family. I shall help to 
nurse him so tenderly,” she thought, he will be 
forced to give me a little bit of praise.” 

Dolores had not told any one about the engage- 
ment so suddenly made and so suddenly broken, 
as she thought. 

It was only fifteen minutes past the dinner 
time, but the minutes seemed like hours, so anxious 
were they to see Banatyne and learn if the object 
of their solicitude was expected to live or die. 

Soon the tired mine manipulator appeared, and 
throwing his slouch hat down upon a gold gilt 
satin upholstered chair, declared that he was as 
“ hungry as a wolf.” 

That he should be heartless enough to think of 
the inner man ” before he spoke of the sick man 
was a surprise and disappointment to the two 
thoroughly nerve-racked anxious women. 

*^Well, how is Kelvyn? Is he likely to get 
well?” were Tricksie’s anxious questions, and 
Dolores was close at hand eagerly listening for 
her father’s answer. 

What are you talking about? ” asked Banatyne, 
as if he had never heard the name “ Kelvyn” in all 
his life. 

“ Isn’t he sick?” asked Tricksie, showing disap" 
pointment, as she feared her hand did not after 
all hold that trump card. 

Sick ? ” repeated Banatyne with provoking 
absentmindedness ; ^^Sick ? ” he emphasized again: 

How do I know?” 

^‘Haven’t you been with him?” asked Tricksie, 
showing impatient surprise. 


278 


LADIES FIRST. 




Not much,” answered her husband in such an 
exasperatingly indifferent way as he quickened his 
pace in the direction of dinner, that the ladies 
could scarcely conceal their impatience. 

“ Didn’t you send to inquire after him ? ” asked 
his wife, not in her sweetest tone, she and Dolores 
standing still addressing themselves to Banatyne’s 
retreating back : 

“ Had other fish to fry,” called the hungry man 
from the dining room: “ Why don’t you come 
along? ” 

I declare, Roy, it’s provoking the way you 
keep dinner waiting until it’s all cold and for no 
reason whatever,” remarked his wife from the 
hall, glad to find a flaw to excuse her impatience. 

“Who’s keeping the dinner waiting now. I’d like 
to know ? ” called Roy’s voice. “ Come on in, and 
you shall hear a good joke,” he added, remem- 
bering for the first time his promise of the morn- 
ing relative to Kelvyn. 

"“To tell you the sober truth,” continued Roy, 
as the family seated itself at the table, “ I haven’t 
had a moment to spare to Kelvyn to-day, or any- 
body else, for that matter. Ask Dougald.” 

“That’s mean now, Roy,” pouted his .wife, 
while his daughter was an interested listener. 

“ You’re both looking very charming,” he 
said, again ignoring the all important subject ; and 
he spoke the truth, for the ladies had entertained 
a hope that if Kelvyn was in the city, he might 
return with Roy and be their guest at dinner. 

“ Well girls,” Banatyne commenced, “ I’m down 
to bed rock to-night.” 


LADIES FIRST. 


279 




I should say so ; ‘ Last Hope ’ selling for one 
dollar and four bits,” contributed Dougald. 

“ Thought it was up to ten dollars,” said 
T ricksie. 

“ So it was this morning, but things sometimes 
change quicker ’n chain lightning,” answered 
Banatyne, as if he enjoyed the joke : “ If I don’t 
get some good news to-night well have to hurry 
about those sunny rooms in the poor house, or 
that shanty in Poverty Row, for either’s likely to 
be crowded,” laughed Banatyne ; then he con- 
tinued with a shade of impatience, “ I left word 
for that man Lutner ” 

“Lutner?” interrupted his daughter, her eyes 
opening wide with surprise. 

“ Yes, do you know him ?” asked her father. 

“ Denhardt Lutner?” asked Dolores excitedly. 

“ Yes, that’s the man,” returned Banatyne. 

“ My step-father,” said the girl briefly. 

Banatyne arched his eyebrows and was deci- 
dedly surprised at the announcement. “ Your 
stepfather?” he repeated. 

‘‘At least that is the name of my step-father/' 
explained his daughter. 

“ Has he anything to do with your mine, ‘ The 
Last Hope ’ ?” she asked anxiously. 

“Well, rather,” replied Banatyne. “He sold 
me the property.” 

“ He did ?” asked Dolores in an astonished tone. 

“Yes,” was the answer, “and now it’s rumored, 
and in fact I have a dispatch in my pocket to that 
effect, that he sold that which was not his to sell. 
In stock talk he sold short, and the report that 1 


2^0 


LADIES FIRST. 


( ( 


have no title to the mine broke it all to pieces to- 
day,” and he drained a good sized goblet of claret. 

“ He’ll be up here this evening to make explana- 
tions,” went on Banatyne, I just want to get at 
those ‘ shorts ’ to-morrow,” and he smacked his 
wine-moistened lips either at the anticipated pleas- 
ure in store for to-morrow, when he would anni- 
hilate the shorts,” or the desire to get every 
drop of what he considered a good thing. 

Dolores involuntarily flinched when her father 
announced that Lutner would be there that even- 
ing. 

“ It will not be necessary for me to see him, 
will it?” she asked, showing dread of such a 
meeting. 

“ Suit yourself about that,” Tricksie counseled, • 
noticing Dolores’ lips growing white. 

I would rather not see him,” Dolores said, 
sadly, and her eyes seemed to take a retrospective 
view of by-gone scenes. 

“ All right, we’ll just go up stairs, and spend the 
evening together,” said Tricksie. “ You can join 
us,Dougald, if you promise to be a very good boy.” 
Just then Kee brought a dispatch to Banatyne. 

*‘Ah! here’s news,” said the P. M., hurriedly, 
tearing open the envelope. Just what I’ve been 
waiting for,” and he read aloud for the benefit of 
the family : 

“ Sam Williams and Barney Ryan,” — 

at the names of her old mining friends Dolores 
started and listened to the further reading of that 
dispatch with a pallid face, her hands clutching. 


“ LADIES FIRST.” 


281 


the table cloth, and her eyes gazing hard at her 
father’s lips as he pronounced each word — 

“leading a party of miners,” 

went on Banatyne, reading, 

“have taken possession, and hold the mine ior rightfu. owner 
They swear that they helped to locate ‘ The Last Hope ’ three 
years ago, calling it ‘ The Boss Claim.’ ” 

Dolores took a quick breath, Kee dropped a glass 
and smashed it; but the reading went right along: 

“ They say that any man who conveyed title in name of -D. B. 
Lutner is a forger, as it belongs to no man ; am afraid we are all 
up the flume. 

“Thomas Hayes.” 

“ That’s hard luck,” said Banatyne, folding the 
dispatch and placing it in his vest pocket. Up the 
flume !” he said, repeating the last words of the 
dispatch. “We’ll see about that,” he added in a 
defiant tone. 

His daughter pushed her plate to one side and 
arose from her unfinished dinner, white as the 
cloth that covered the table. 

“ Send for Captain Jim,” she said, the words 
almost inarticulate from the emotion she was 
trying to conceal. “ Send for him before you 
see Lutner,” she insisted. 

Tricksie immediately concluded that Dolores, 
although a very nervy girl, could bear the strain 
no longer. Her great love for Kelvyn had finally 
compelled her surrender, and that the girl 
jumped at this excuse to bring her lover back; 
and Tricksie v»^as with her heart and soul. 

Kee blurted out, in agitated English, which, at 
its best, was difficult to understand, “ Bloss Claim, 


282 


LADIES FIRST. 


( ( 


allee same, Last Hope. Me savee,” and trotted 
off in a celestial flutter. 

Dolores felt keenly the disgrace that was about 
to fall upon her mother’s husband. “ I cannot 
accuse him,” she thought, “ Let Captain Jim do 
that.” 

Does Kelvyn know anything about the Boss 
Claim ? ” Banatyne inquired of his daughter. 

“ He and I were among the prospectors who 
located it. Where is your * Last Hope ’ mine 
located ?” she asked, leaning a little heavier upon 
her stepmother. 

“ Why, up there in Amador County, between 
Gold Gulch and Hangtown,” explained her father 
pointing as if it was just across the street, and 
he fumbled at his pocket, took out the telegram, 
and read it again. “ This fool thing says it be- 
longs to ‘ no man.’ Who does it belong to then ? ” 
he asked with a puzzled look, and replacing the 
dispatch in his pocket when his daughter’s answer 
arrested his action. 

Possibly to a woman,” she said calmly, as sne 
started to go, then turned, and said again: “ But 
send for Captain Jim. He will tell you all,” and 
left the room with Tricksie, while Banatyne re- 
peated, in a puzzled, mystified way : “ To a 
woman? to a woman? How’s that going to help 
mef His obtuseness, as thick as a stone Vv^all, 
as usual, prevented his taking the hint. 

Tricksie felt confident that her idea was the 
correct one. She could only look upon any 
episode involving a handsome young man and a 
beautiful young girl in the light of a love romance. 


“ '^.AblES FIRST. 283 

She didn’t even hear the mine talk, so engrossed 
was she with the romantic side of the question ; 
but Dougald, quick to receive inspiration from 
his sister, said to himself: “To a. woman? I’ll 
bet a cookie that mine belongs to my sister. Gee 
whiz! Here’s a go.” 

He immediately began to hustle on his over, 
coat and grabbed his hat. 

“ Where are you going, youngster, in such a big 
hurry?” his father asked. 

“ Down to the hotel to see if Kelvyn’s still in 
the city,” answered Dougald, breathlessly. 

“ Don’t look only at the hotel,” advised his 
father, “ but search the town ; I’ve got to have 
this thing settled to-night or I’m flatter against 
the wall than a flounder. Don’t come back with- 
out Captain Jim. He’s the key to the situation.” 

Dougald left the house almost on a run, while 
Banatyne went up stairs where Dolores told him 
and Tricksie the story of the Boss Claim. 


284 


‘‘ LADIES FIRST.’* 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

“ IS THAT YOU SWEETNESS ? ” 

Dougai.d readily found Kelvyn at the hotel 
where he had been quietly stopping, and he never 
had such a cordial greeting in his life as Kelvyn 
extended to him. He was to that moody lover 
like a breath from Heaven to the tortured in 
Hades. Ah ! a message from my unyielding 
sweetheart, at last,” was his happy thought. 

“ Put on your coat and hat and come with me,” 
was Dougald’s abrupt answer to Kelvyn’s out- 
burst of welcome ; Haven’t time to talk here. 
We’ll talk going up in the cars,” he continued, in 
such a hurry-flurry way that Kelvyn felt sudden 
alarm, and his apprehension was, of course, all for 
his affianced. 

“ How is your sister ? ” he asked as indifferently 
as he could, while he hastily put on his coat, 
snatched his hat and gloves and hurried away with 
Dougald, like a doctor who has been called to 
save or kill a patient. 

‘‘Why haven’t you been up to see for your- 
self? ” asked Dougald, his voice keeping up with 
his hurrying steps. 

Dougald’s evasive answer to Kelvyn’s question 
convinced the pessimistic lover that his fears were 
well grounded and that something was wrong 
with his darling and his remorse was poignant. 


LADIES FIRST. 


< c 


)> 


285 


I don’t know,” he answered, like a shamed school 
boy who would like to hide his face with his arms. 

“ Been in the city almost a week,” went on his 
young tormentor, in a hurt tone, “ and never came 
near to know whether people were living or 
dead,” he added, with a merry twinkle in his eye 
as he noticed Kelvyn’s troubled expression. 

“ Your sister is not sick, is she ? ” asked Kelvyn, 
a slight tremor in his voice. 

“ Did I say anybody was sick ? ” asked Dougald, 
laughing at Kelvyn’s concern. 

No, not exactly,” returned Kelvyn, with a 
feeble little smile “ but you act as if it’s a case of 
life or death.” 

“Well, so it is, a very, very urgent case,” 
returned Dougald, purposely prolonging the 
lover’s suspense. 

“ Why don’t you tell a fellow right out what the 
trouble is ? ” demanded Kelvyn, not able longer to 
conceal his anxiety. 

“ Why, that man Lutner ” began Dougald. 

At the sound of the name Kelvyn’s heart gave a 
leap. “ Has he dared to molest Dolores ? ” inter- 
rupted Kelvyn, grasping the car seat nervously. 

“Well, it looks that way to me,” went on Dou- 
gald, and the more he tried to explain the more 
misty he became to himself and the clearer things 
appeared to the listener. “At any rate,” con- 
tinued Dougald, “ the first thing my sister said 
when she heard Pop read that dispatch was ' Send 
for Captain Jim,’ so here you are,” he concluded, 
as they reached the house. 

Kelvyn’s heart beat fast and he thought: “ God 


286 


LADIES FIRST. 


< < 


bless the girl ; she knew ‘ Captain Jim ’ would not 
fail her.” 

In the meantime Dolores, Banatyne and Trick- 
sie had been discussing the situation. Banatyne’s 
opinion of Lutner was that he was a consummate 
scoundrel, and that he should be punished. 
Dolores pleaded for mercy for him, asking her 
father to save him from punishment if it was in his 
power to do so. Tricksie said, simply, “We all 
have our faults,” when Dougald rushed into the 
room and announced that Kelvyn was down 
stairs. 

“I just hustled him,” the boy dashed along. “When 
I first went in his room he was so afraid some- 
thing had happened to Dolores he almost keeled 
over, and I just kept him on the ragged edge for 
a little while, for his meanness in not coming up 
before. When I tried to explain what we wanted 
him for — not quite understanding myself what it 
was all about — he felt relieved, and the more mixed 
I got the more he would nod his head, as know- 
ing as an owl, and say, ‘ I understand.’ ' I half 
suspected it.’ ‘ I’m not astonished,’ so I suppose 
he knows all about the matter.” 

“ It’s seven o’clock now, and as Lutner is booked 
for eight, you had all better come right down, see 
our amateur detective, and improve this shining 
hour,” and he darted out and down the broad 
stairs three steps at a time into the drawing-room 
where Kelvyn was, determined not to miss one 
word of this sure enough detective story. 

Banatyne also hurried down to see Prince 
James, but Tricksie determined not to be in any 


‘ LADIES FIRST. 


287 


haste going, and Dolores also kept her seat. 
Tricksie looked at the girl with astonishment as 
she asked, ‘Aren’t you going down, dearest?” 

“No ; you and Papa go down and talk the mat- 
ter over with Captain Jim.” she said coolly ; “ He 
can tell you more about it than I can. I haven’t 
been in Gold Gulch, you know, for three years.” 

“ Won’t you please go down and see him?” 

“ I don’t care to. “We didn’t part friends,” 
Dolores explained, her lips trembling, “ and if I go 
down he will think I sent for him to make up,” 

“ That is nonsense, my child ; I’m sure the mine 
was sufficient cause to justify the sending, besides 
he may think your father sent for him,” said her 
stepmother, trying to console ths troubled girl. 

“ Didn’t you hear Dougald say that he told him 
that I had sent for him? He will jump at the con- 
clusion that I wanted to make friends or that I 
have changed my opinion regarding a certain dis- 
cussion we had,” said Dolores, with flushed cheeks 
and tears just ready to come. 

“ And don’t you want to be friends? Why, if 
you had my emotional and energetic tempera- 
ment you would have met him at the threshold,” 
said Mrs. Banantyne. 

“ Of course, I would like to be friends with him. 
Sweetness, but not at the sacrifice of my opinions. 
I can’t humble myself to make the first advances, 
because he is decidedly in the wrong,” was Miss 
Obstinacy's response. 

“ Why, what has he done to make you so posi- 
tiv?, Dolores,” asked Mrs. Banantyne. 

“ Now please don’t ask me. Sweetness ; it’s a 


288 


LADIES FIRST. 


(( 


very decided difference or opinion that separates 
Captain Jim and me,” and the girl kissed her step- 
mother affectionately. 

“ See how quickly he came,” went on Tricksie, 
pleading the lover’s cause. ‘‘ Did you hear 
Dougald sa^ how concerned he was about you?” 

“Yes, I heard that,” she answered, rising, and 
Tricksie thought she had won her case: but the 
obstinate girl walked farther away from the door 
to the window, and looked out ; then she turned 
and said : “ Sweetness, you go down — he may 

think it strange if he doesnT see you.” 

“ He will not think it strange if he doesn’t see 
me, Dolores, because I’m not in the case at all ; but 
he will certainly think it strange if he doesn’t see 
you.*' 

“ Oh ! no, he won’t,” contradicted Dolores as 
she turned her back and looked out of the 
window. W on’t you please go alone. Sweetness ?” 

She noted Kelvyn’s anxious look toward the 
door as she' entered and his disappointment at not 
seeing Dolores. Banatyne had heard from 
Kelvyn the full history of the Boss Claim as well 
as a great deal about Lutner, and a plan was formed 
to have Banatyne see Lutner first, and for curi- 
osity to find out just how far Lutner would go in 
his rascality, and if he would try in the slightest 
degree to offer any excuse for his misdeeds. 

They were curious to know what would be 
his tactics, now that his rascality was discovered. 
At the proper time Kelvyn would appear upon 
the scene, if his testimony was needed tc confute 
any of Lutner’s statements after Banatyne had 


“ LADIES FIRST.” 


289 


interviewed him. They had determined, for 
Dolores’ sake, since she wished it, to be as lenient 
with the scoundrel as was consistent with the 
attitude he would assume. 

After Tricksie had greeted Kelvyn most cor- 
dially, Banatyne said to her excitedly : Why 

the whole mine belongs to Dolores. ! ” 

“ Is it possible ? Then I’m delighted ” said his 
wife, showing as much pleasure as if she had 
been the possessor of such unmistakable riches 
herself. ~ 

“Yes; every inch of it,” Kelvyn said. 

“ Why, now it’s as plain as the nose on your face,” 
was Banatyne’s convincing contribution. 

“ By the way, how is Miss Banatyne ?” asked 
Kelvyn, trying to appear indifferent. 

“ Not very well,” was the arch match-maker’s 
reply. 

“ Not well ?” repeated Kelvyn, with concern. 

“ All bosh,” laughed Banatyne, with a toss of 
his head, “ she’s only nervous for fear we’ll punish 
that step-father of hers.” 

“ Isn’t the owner of the great ‘ Last Hope ’ mine, 
going to allow me one little peep at her ladyship ?” 
asked Kelvyn, rather nervously. 

“ I’m afraid she’s hardly able to come down,” 
answered his hostess, sadly ; “ By the way, would 
you mind coming upstairs. Captain Kelvyn ?” she 
continued ; “ remember, one of the eight Beati- 
tudes is ' To visit the sick ;’ and the sick, you 
know, are always so glad to see their friends.” 

Kelvyn blessed Tricksie from the bottom of his 
heart for that suggestion and did that Christian 


290 


LADIES FIRST. 


i ( 


Beatitude with alacrity as she led him on tip-toe 
up to the alleged sick room ; opening the door 
softly, she ushered the bold lover into his sweet- 
heart’s boudoir, and left them to make up their 
lovers’ quarrel in the usual sweet and entirely satis- 
factory way. 

Dolores had turned the artificial lights of her 
room very low and reseated herself at the window 
to epjoy thp moonlight of a glorious night. 

At first, the room to Kelvyn’s eyes, accustomed 
to glaring gaslight, seemed as dark as Egypt’s 
darkest catacomb. Dolores heard him stumble 
over a chair and thought, That’s Sweetness back 
again : God bless her ; she’s all out of breath from 
running up and down stairs,” for Kelvyn’s breath- 
ing was hard consequent upon his exciting joy 
and delightful anticipation of soon holding Dolores 
to his heart again. He almost groped his way 
along. Presently he heard a sob and he followed 
the sound with his eyes, whose sight was rewarded 
by a blond covered head upon which the moon- 
beams shone through the open casement. The 
white arms and neck gleamed in the soft light. He 
stood breathlessly still for a moment. Dolores’ 
voice murmured ; — Is that you, Sweetness?” — 
Could he believe his own ears? He did not expect 
so kindly a welcome from his haughty love. He 
knew her high-strung spirit of old. 

‘‘Yes, it is I,” exclaimed Kelvyn, his voice 
trembling with repressed love and excitement. 

“A man !” screamed the girl in alarm, as Kel- 
vyn’s heavy tones fell upon her astonished ear. 

“ What else did you expect?” asked Kelvyn, as 


LADIES FIRST. 


291 


<( 


he caught his sweetheart in his arms. “So sweet 
a call from so loved a Juliet would surely bring 
erring Romeo to her side,” he added, as he pressed 
her to his heart, rained kisses from willing lips 
unto willing lips, and there in the moonlight, 
whose soft halo conceals the blushes of modest 
love, she again promised to become Mrs. James 
Kelvyn at a very early date. Each felt that 
Tricksie had planned their surrender, and they 
voted her a brigadier-general in the tactics neces- 
sary to carry on a campaign of love. 


292 


LADIES FIRST. 




CHAPTER XXV. 

SQUARING ACCOUNTS. 

Lutner, true to his appointment, arrived at 
eight o’clock sharp, and was met by Banatyne. 
Dougald remained within ear shot, for a boy of 
eighteen is much more interested in the trapping 
of a villain than he is in love affairs, and, besides, 
he was fearful of violence to his father, so he 
determined to be on hand should lusty help be 
required. 

Lutner was very dehonnair in appearance — 
regularly jaunty in his manner. He extended 
\his clammy, moistened hand to Banatyne, without 
a curve in his fingers. Banatyne clasped it warmly 
from force of habit, dropping it instantly, as if it 
were a slimy asp with poisonous sting. 

“ Hello, Banatyne,” was his greeting, I thought 
you were a man who didn’t scare like a jack rab- 
bit.” Then he laughed, and the scar was just as 
vigilant as ever, and curved up in crow-foot shape 
toward the well remembered sinister eyes. 

‘‘ W ell, I don’t, unless my assailant strikes from 
under cover,” returned Banatyne, forcing a laugh. 

What do you mean, old fellow ? ” asked Lut- 
ner, as he settled himself comfortably in the 
largest and easiest chair he could find. 

^^Now, there’s no use, Lutner, whipping the 
devil around the stump,” returned Banatyne, 


“ladies first.” 


293 


bluntly. You have heard, of course, the rumors 
floating about, and know how they have affected 
the market on the 'Last Hope? ’ ” 

" Well, yes, I have heard some wild nonsense,” 
he answered, flirting his handkerchief from his 
pocket, its perfume meeting small favor from 
Banatyne’s nostrils, for they gave a quick snort 
like an angry steer, as he said : " It may be nonsense 
for you^ but it is damned hard sense for me^ 
Banatyne was getting angry, as he continued : 

"You sold me that mine outright, taking my 
money for it, and yesterday I bought nearly 
every share that was offered, so that to-day 
I stand loaded with about three-fourths of the 
entire property, and my friends have the balance ; 
now comes the almost positive assurance that you 
sold that which was not yours to sell. In fact 
that you stole the property known as the ' Boss 
Claim,’ and hadn’t any more right to a foot of that 
mine than I had, consequently we have been 
swindled — that’s the plain English of it.” 

Lutner leaned back in the chair, and heard the 
accusation without apparent surprise or agitation. 
He surveyed Banatyne, coolly. He knew why 
he had been sent for, and he expected this expose. 
He did not flinch at the words. 

" Well, I wouldn’t be quite as credulous as you 
are, Banatyne, for all the mines in California,” he 
said, in a tone that implied sympathy for Banatyne’s 
glaring weakness. 

" So, you believe every thing you hear,” he 
added, in a pat-you-on-the-back tone, as he lolled 
in his chair and took a handsome gold cigar case 


294 


LADIES FIRST. 


(( 


from his pocket and opened it, preparatory to offer- 
ing one of the highest-priced weeds purchasable. 

“ No, not ev erything,” returned Banatyne, his 
usually smiling lips curving with a sneer. Now, 
for instance, if anyone should tell me that you 
were truthful I wouldn’t believe that ; no, not by a 
jugfulf his patience kicking hard against the 
cool impudence of that brazen-faced villain. 

That’s unkind, old fellow,” said Lutner, po- 
litely, offering him a cigar. 

I am not smoking,” said Banatyne, brusquely, 
as he waved the cigar away. 

“ Since when have you reformed ? " asked LuT 
ner, throwing one leg over the other. 

“ Since now,” was the brief reply. 

“ Ah,” said Lutner, slowly, as he selected a cigar 
and then replaced the case carefully in his pocket. 

“Well, what have you got to say?” asked 
Banatyne sharply, as if he was in a hurry to show 
Lutner the street door. 

“Nothing much,” answered Lutner, as he took 
a quartz matchbox from his pocket, turned it slowly 
around until he got the proper side, struck a 
match upon it and lit his cigar, while Banatyne 
was standing, watching and waiting for his 
answer, very much like a volcano about to irrupt. 

“ Well, say it,” blurted out Banatyne. 

“Well, what I was going to say is this,” he 
added, taking the cigar from his mouth, looking to 
see if it was well lighted, and returning it to his 
lips to perfect its light by a few more puffs. 

“ Is what?” howled Banatyne, his patience well 
nigh exhausted. 


LADIES FIRST. 


295 


<( 


That mine was my property,” said l^utner, 
slowly, I” — here he tooR a long, loving pull at 
his cigar — “ discovered it, staked it out” — 
another pull at his cigar — “ worked it, and here 
is the original location notice of the old ‘ Boss 
Claim' standing in D. B. Lutner, and recorded 
three years ago.” Here he took a paper from his 
pocket and showed it to Banatyne, adding ‘^Didn't 
your expert find it so recorded at Gold Gulch? ” 

Banatyne did not answer. He had promised 
Kelvyn that he would keep his temper, to see 
how far the rascal would go and where he would 
wind up, but he was having the hardest work of 
his life to fulfiill the promise. He handed the 
paper back to Lutner. 

“ Satisfactory ? ” asked Lutner. 

Not exactly,” returned Banatyne, his lip curl- 
ing in contempt. 

‘‘Not?” and Lutner elevated his eye brows. 
“ Hard to please ” he added briefly. 

“ Not so credulous as you supposed,” sneered 
Banatyne. 

“ No,” answered Lutner, and he puffed wreaths 
of smoke above his head, and threw himself far- 
ther back in the chair to see if his smoke rings 
were successes. “ It is your property now — at 
least you say most of it is your property,” he 
added, as he arose and walked slowly over to a 
receiver and relieved his cigar of its ashes. 
“ That’s all you wished to see me for ? ” he con- 
cluded, inquiringly, as he turned to Banatyne, 
affecting to consider the business at an end, 
offering his hand to take his leave. 


296 


‘ LADIES FIRST. 


Not just yet,” said Banatyne, refusing Lutner’s 
proffered hand and placing himself between that 
worthy and the door, “ There is a gentleman here 
who is extremely anxious to see you ; perhaps his 
presence will refresh your elastic memory as to 
facts.” 

And pray who wishes to honor me so ? ” asked 
Lutner, with cold sarcasm, and not without some 
tremor in his voice. 

An old friend of yours,” Banatyne returned, 
double discounting him on sarcasm ; then he said 
to Dougald, for that young man had loomed into 
sight like a star in the East, not able to subdue 
longer his burning desire to gaze upon a real live 
villain: “TellKelvyn to come here.” Dougald 
darted away as if a red hot liner was after him. 

Lutner’s face paled, but he kept his composure 
and well-affected nonchalence, and said, as if try- 
ing to recall his memory — ^‘Kelvyn? — Kelvyn? 
I haven’t the honor of knowing the name — I never 
heard it before.” 

Well he’s heard yours, and he knows you like 
a book,” snapped Banatyne. 

Lutner took a quick step toward the door, but 
Banatyne had no idea of allowing him to escape 
before he should be confronted by Kelvyn, and 
relieved of some of his audacious effrontery at 
least; that would be some satisfaction if they 
didn’t do anything more, so he merely moved back 
a step, when Lutner moved, but still kept himself 
between Lutner and the door. 

I have an engagement,” said Lutner ; please 
do not insist upon my remaining longer,” and his 
sarcasm was more bitter than gall. 


LADIES FIRST. 


297 


( ( 


Oh, I must insist/’ returned Banatyne enjoy- 
ing his chance to retaliate. Chacun a son tour! ” 

Lutner’s longing, covetous eyes riveted upon 
that exit like the eyes of a wild beast upon the 
door of its cage, and he moved quickly to one 
side and took a long stride in its direction, but his 
keeper was quite as alert as he, and backed into 
the opened casement of the door and stood facing 
the desperate Lutner, 'blocking his exit completely. 
At that instant the sound of hurrying footsteps 
fell upon Lutner’s ears. His face grew pale to 
the very lips. Suddenly he seized Banatyne and 
flung him to one side with the strength of a des- 
perate man who grappled for his life, and dashed 
out of the room, meeting Kee in the hall. 

“ Lutner ! mline ! ” — but Kee’s scream was 
hushed, for Lutner had taken the astonished 
Chinaman by the throat and thrown him against 
the wall with such force that his celestial breath 
for an instant was lost. Just then Kelvyn’s hand 
gripped Lutner’s arm like a circle of iron. The 
baffled villain tried to free himself, but he was 
held as in a vice of steel, and Kelvyn shook him 
as a mastiff might shake a sky terrior, until Lut- 
ner’s jaws chattered like a pair of castanets. 

Tricksie and Dolores appeared in the hall — 
Tricksie speechless with fright, Dolores white 
with emotion. “ Oh ! please let him go. Captain 
Jim,” came his sweetheart’s pleading voice. Kel- 
vyn’s grasp relaxed, which enabled Lutner to jerk 
away and he flung himself, blinded with rage, out 
of the front door. They heard a howl of terror, 
followed by a fall— Lutner had, in his furious 


298 


“ladies first.” 


frenzy, rushed beyond the outside vestibule and 
fallen down the long flight of steps to the carriage 
drive below. 

For an instant they all stood as if transfixed 
with horror, when suddenly Tricksie with the en- 
ergy of emotion, and before any hand could stay 
her, darted out of the door and down the steps. 
Banatyne, Kelvyn and Dougald followed, while 
Dolores sank into a chair and covered her face 
with her hands as if to save her eyes from some 
horrible sight. 

At the foot of the steps lay Lutner, his face 
turned up to the moonlight, more terrible in the 
ghastliness of death than it had been sinister in 
life. 

Tricksie waved her bare white arms in air, 
then clutched her head between her cold hands 
and gazed like a hypnotized person at the dead 
face. Banatyne passed his arm around her waist, 
and took her hand to lead her away. 

“ Dead ! Killed ! Look at the dead eyes ! how 
they stare up to God !” she said in an awed voice, 
then with a shriek, that sounded wild and shrill 
in the night air, and despite her husband’s almost 
super-human strength to prevent, she fell face 
down, prone upon the earth. Banatyne and Kel- 
vyn carried her into the house — she trembled like 
a frightened bird — Banatyne trying to quiet her 
with soothing words — “ Don’t mind, pet, the world 
is better without him — ” he said. The only 
answer from Tricksie was a low wail ; her frame 
shook convulsively, and she continued to murmur ; 
“ Staring — dead eyes ! Killed !” 


LADIES FIRST. 


299 


<( 


“ She shouldn’t have seen that terrible sight,” 
Banatyne said to Kelvyn. 

“ I tried to stop Jier,” Kelvyn replied, “ but she 
rushed past me too quickly.” 

Her emotional nature always makes her an in- 
tense sufferer for a little while, but she recovers 
quickly,” her husband said, hopeful and sanguine 
Banatyne in all things. 

Now was the time that Dolores’ strong nature 
served her and others well. She helped place 
Tricksie in bed. She nursed her for days and 
nights. Her grief was intense, but not a tear nor 
an hysterical sob escaped her. She soothed her 
father, for when he lost hope, he was in despair, 
indeed. 

The best medical skill that could be obtained, 
from the first declared the issue doubtful, the ter- 
rible and sudden fright was fatal in her condition, 
and human skill could not avail to save mother 
and child. A week had passed and no sign 
of returning consciousness had. been shown 
in the patient’s clouded mind. Her ravings were 
always of the staring, dead eyes,” — the ghastly 
white face in the moonlight.” 

At last, on the day of the end, the fever sub- 
sided ; the patient’s temperature was lower, and a 
more natural expression took the place of the one 
of horror that her face had worn for more than a 
week. Dolores felt more hopeful, and she tiptoed 
out of the room to call her father, Kelvyn and 
Dougald, to look at the pale face as it lay in ap- 
parently painless sleep. 

“ Doesn’t she look better ?” whispered Dolores 


300 


“ LADIES first/’ 


to poor, sobbing Banatyne. “ Much more natural,” 
she added with a hopeful smile. 

^‘Yes,” answered her father, ‘‘ but she doesn’t 
look like my Sweetness,” he added, wiping away 
the burning tears, which had come fresh in his 
great sorrow. 

The invalid moved. She opened her eyes and 
looked at Banatyne in a dazed way ; then she lifted 
herself wearily, for some strength had seemingly re- 
turned, and rested feebly upon her elbow ; look- 
ing around, she greeted her loving watchers with 
a smile. Such a smile ! It seemed a reflection 
from the innermost court of Heaven. 

Banatyne knelt by the bed, put his arms around 
her emaciated form and pillowed her head upon 
his shoulder. With effort, she raised her thin 
white hand, cold as marble, to his face, where it 
nestled in his beard, but without sufficient strength 
to caress him as was her habit. Dougald crouched 
behind the couch and bowed his head upon the 
cover-lid to smother the sobs that he could not 
control — for he had good reason to love his fath- 
er’s young wife with all the fervor that a child 
feelsfor a parent ; — Dolores stood by with Kelvyn’s 
arm about her waist, and a happy hopeful smile 
for the invalid’s recovery upon her lips. Tricksie 
raised her eyes to the young couple and murmured : 

You are happy ?” 

Yes,” w'hispered Kelvyn, “thanks to you, Mrs. 
Banatyne, Dolores has promised to be my wife,” 
and he kissed Tricksie’s hand, Dolores nodding ac- 
quiescence with a loving little smile, as she 
softly asked, “Are you better?” 


“ LADIES FIRST.” 


301 


I feel no pain,” was Tricksie’s answer beneath 
her failing breath ; after a pause, she mur- 
mured : “ Where is my boy ?” 

His sister motioned to Dougald to dry his 
eyes and come around to the front where 
Tricksie could see him. The poor boy lifted 
his tear stained face and did his best to sub- 
due his emotion, but as he approached Tricksie 
his grief mastered control ; he bowed his head 
upon the pillow just where she lay and gave 
vent to his feelings, his boyish frame shaking 
with convulsive sobs. Tricksie’s hand felt its 
way, and rested upon his bowed head,- as if to 
soothe his trouble. Presently the invalid whis- 
pered : 

^‘All is dark. I cannot see any of you.” 

Death had pitilessly presaged his coming by 
robbing her of sight. One cold white hand rested 
upon Doiigald’s bowed head, the other groped 
its way to Banatyne’s face. She felt his tears, and, 
with lips upon which the death dew was gather- 
ing, she whispered so softly that none could hear 
but him : I am not grieved to die for myself, but 
I would pray for strength to give you a new life 
— to live for, — our unborn child, — but God will 
not heed that prayer, — I am going — too late, — 
you must not weep — ” she sighed. “ Goodbye, 
dearest ones. I am not afraid to meet my God. 
He knows ” 

The exhausted body lay limp in Banatyne’s 
arms. There was a sigh like a tire.d child’s — and a 
blot had been erased from the world’s escutcheon.- 
Tricksie was with her Maker. ’ She was in the 


302 


LADIES FIRST. 


it 


august presence of that Impartial Judge wfio calls 
a crime a crime whether the offender be man or 
woman. 

The breakers in the great Ocean of Time surged 
and seethed and rolled along, regardless of death 
and heedless of life, and two years had rushed by. 

Captain Jim and Dolores, whose honeymoon 
still lingered, although it was more than a year 
old, often had reminiscent talks of Tricksie. 

“ The darling,” Dolores, would say with wet eyes^ 
she was so good. It was harder for her to do 
right than it is for us who have been gifted by 
God with stronger natures. She was so contrite. 
I’m sure she went straight to Heaven. You know 
* one tear shed in repentance of sin opens the gates 
of Paradise,’ ” and Kelvyn would take his wife in 
his arms and kiss away the tears that she shed in 
remembrance of Tricksie. 

Mr. Samuel Williams and Mr. Bernard Ryan 
(better known in Gold Gulch in early days as 
Big Sam ” and Barney Ryan) had become suc- 
cessful mine owners, and spent much of their time 
in San Francisco. They were always welcome 
guests at the palatial home of Mr. and Mrs. James 
Kelvyn, as were also Mr. and Mrs. Nathaniel 
Halstead, formerly Edna Maxwell, for Halstead 
had at last concentrated his affections upon one 
divinity and had married, although a little late in 
life, none the less happily. 

They were present one evening when the Last 
Hope was the subject of discussion. 

The ledge gits richer with every foot we sink. 


LADIES FIRST.” 


303 


Oh! she kim to stay, she did,” said Mr. Samuel 
Williams. 

Be gorra, I loikes the looks of her betther 
ivery day. She's purttier nor a speckled pig,” 
declared the enthusiastic Mr. Bernard Ryan 

She has yielded over ten millions of dollars in 
two years,” said Kelvyn, and paid fifty-two con- 
secutive semi-monthly and extra dividends of five 
dollars per share. That’s a splendid record for a 
two-year-old, eh ? ” 

The pensive look died away from Banatyne’s 
eyes. He wiped the perspiration from his fore- 
head. The old time fire lighted up his face and 
blazed into resurrected warmth as he cried : 

“ We’ll drink to the ‘ Last Hope.’ ” 

Yes, we’ll toast the mine,” assented Halstead, 
but, true to his chivalric instincts, he added, rais- 
ing a glass of sparkling wine to his lips : 

‘‘ Ladies First ! ” 


THE END. 


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